


Room 28

by moonflowery



Category: Portrait de la jeune fille en feu | Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, F/F, Fluff and Angst, I think?, Roommates, i'm not sure where this is going but trust me, kind of like the movie but it's the present and things are different and i'm trying my best, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22485979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowery/pseuds/moonflowery
Summary: Marianne is an art student moving into a new college dorm room, and desperately looking for inspiration for her art. Héloïse doesn't really want a new roommate, there's many things she doesn't want in life. Now that they've found each other they're certainly going to complicate each other's lives, but it might also be the best thing that's happened to them. They could be each other's new biggest problems, or solve together all their other problems.
Relationships: Héloïse & Marianne (Portrait of a Lady on Fire), Héloïse/Marianne (Portrait of a Lady on Fire)
Comments: 144
Kudos: 373





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is for the p.28 discord. you are all the best! i hope this is remotely good

The first day was a rainy one. Marianne was moving into a new college dorm room, and fate had it so that the weather would be against her. She arrived at the building and her clothes, hair and bags were soaking wet from the rain. She didn’t stop for a second to assess the damage though, that could wait for a throughout revision once she arrived at the safety of her room. Besides she encountered an… interference with her plan. As she was arriving at the door of the building, there was someone else also entering. The person was wearing a raincoat with a hood, so Marianne couldn’t see their face, so her eyes were immediately drawn to the hand that lingered on the door to leave it open for her. She continued to walk steadily through the halls, focused on arriving and only that. She had memorized her room’s number so she didn’t even need to check twice. However, as hard as she tried to not get distracted, there was one major distraction right in front of her, walking right in front of her. Luckily the mysterious person ahead of Marianne was walking just as fast. All she could see of this person was the back of her head and her back, which wasn’t a lot, considering the person was pretty well covered by a dark green raincoat. A few moments later, the hood of the raincoat finally fell back and Marianne was greeted by the sight of golden locks of hair, messily tied on this woman’s head.

Marianne was pretty much breathless, and starting to feel an odd and confusing sensation by chasing after this woman, but she was certain she was going in the right direction. They were just headed the same way. But when the stranger started walking faster, something inside Marianne pushed her to keep up. Her body was tense, her back starting to ache from carrying her bags, she was uncomfortable in her wet clothes and for some reason, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the back of the head of this complete stranger. Until finally, stopping suddenly as if she had knocked an invisible wall, the woman stopped and turned to a door, hastily opened it and took a step forward, but hesitated in the doorway. Marianne stopped right along with her, glanced at the number on the door her face contorted in an awkward grimace, confused for not knowing whether to smile or frown at what looked like an unexpected coincidence. It was her room. It was their room. Room 28. 

The woman turned around. “You were following me,” she stated.

A sigh escaped Marianne’s lips. Surely because of her race under the rain and down these halls and the abrupt stop. She didn’t stop to think it might have been mostly because of the sight of the gorgeous woman that stood in front of her. She couldn’t form many coherent thoughts at the moment either. The stranger turned out to be a strikingly beautiful woman. The divine hair met the strong contours of her face, and they turned into delicate lines of mouth, nose, cheeks, but everything, absolutely everything in that face, and for a moment in the hall, the building and the entire world revolved around those green eyes. They were heavenly yet angry. They were so angry. _Why?_ Marianne had an instant to wonder. She felt punched in the chest with only this woman’s gaze and she felt compelled to fall to her knees. That wasn’t what she did at all thought.

“Is this your room?” Marianne asked, still breathless.

“Is it yours?”

An answer, apparently, wasn’t necessary. The stranger walked into the room and her entire invitation was just the act of leaving the door open behind her. Marianne walked in and simply glanced around the room. One side was clearly occupied, and the one closest to the door was neat and blank as a canvas. Mine, Marianne thought. She was suddenly content, even if it didn’t feel in the slightest like home _yet_.

“I’m Mariane. Art student. Your new roommate,” she stated slowly but confidently, “what’s your name?” she asked.

Marianne turned to look at the other woman who, despite being in the room that should be her home while in college, she looked like she felt completely out of place. Awkward and tense. “Héloïse,” she answered at last. Héloïse’s eyes traveled around the room, just like Marianne’s eyes did as if she were seeing it for the first time as well. She sighed and took off her raincoat, leaving it on a chair. “I need to go out,” she announced, without looking at Marianne’s eyes again. And just like that, she left the room. 

When she was alone, Marianne felt her lips try to pull the shape of a smile, but she relaxed her face. She closed the door and got to work on settling down, getting dry clothes and unpacking. Meanwhile, looking over her shoulder at the other side of the room. Although it was clearly lived in, it looked oddly empty and orderly. Not like it was purposefully kept that way, but like there weren’t enough things to get messy. Strange, considering the woman that lived in there looked so fiercely full of life. The room was soulless without Héloïse in it. Other than feelings and emotions that lingered in the air like perfume, bittersweet scents of Héloïse’s presence, there were also facts about the room. There were plenty of books, a surprising amount. There was an electric piano on the bed, the unmade bed. Not too many papers scattered around, but Marianne fed her curiosity enough to find out that those were music sheets. On a chair, there stayed Héloïse’s raincoat and on another was Marianne’s red bomber jacket. She guessed her new roommate didn’t mean out, outside, but somewhere in the building. She’d have to be crazy to go outside under that rain. 

The last thing Marianne unpacked were some of her art supplies. This wasn’t all, but she was smart enough not to bring it all with her under that rain. Smart, considering the supplies she looked over on her lap were damp from the rain. A new block of blank paper sheets survived, thankfully. Only a corner was a bit damp. She would be fine. She only had to get comfortable, and tomorrow she’d get up on her feet and prepare to take down this last year of college and finally graduate. The last thing on her mind before she went to bed that first day was, of course, her new roommate. Héloïse came back late, as if she had purposefully been waiting until Marianne would be asleep. She was quiet about her nightly routine and she was asleep before Marianne could quiet down her thoughts for long enough to join her. They had a long year ahead of themselves, and it would be nice to see Héloïse smile at least once before graduation, Marianne thought with a smile of her own as a tiny seed of determination was planted in the back of her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go!  
> it's kinda short chapters in hopes that it wont take me months to update lol  
> i'm super insecure about everything but whatever i love poalof i love marianne and heloise and i love writing so let's do this!  
> please let me know what you think!  
> thanks for reading  
> (also if you like ocean's 8 and/or the haunting of hill house i've also written fics about those so you can check that out!)


	2. Chapter 2

Marianne’s plans, by all measures, were not going well. First, settling down on her new room wasn’t as easy as she’d thought. She tossed and turned in bed night after night without ever achieving a truly restful night since she arrived at the new room. Conquering her last year of college wasn’t quite an easy ride either. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, though she preferred calling it a lack of _muse_. But all her work had continuously been… not good enough. Not good enough for her own appreciation, even less so for the professors. Last but not least, seeing a genuine smile form in the face of her maddeningly attractive but extraordinarily distant roommate. An absolute failure.

Héloïse was a constant frustration in Marianne’s day. She didn’t argue, she wasn’t messier than Marianne, she wasn’t noisy and she didn’t invite in strangers. She was almost the perfect roommate really, if it wasn’t for the massive wall of ice that Héloïse had metaphorically built between their two sides of the room. Marianne had the impression that Héloïse resented her, though she had no idea why that could be.

They had a couple of conversations those first days, but they didn’t go beyond good mornings and nights, the weather and the questions with very obvious answers that didn’t manage to start a conversation. “Do you paint?”, “Do you play the piano?” and not much else.

Finally, one particularly rough night for Marianne, something changed. She was exhausted, frustrated, and incapable of falling asleep, something she desperately needed. Tired of tossing around in bed, she sat up and grabbed pen and paper. It wasn’t the first time that she attempted to draw something because a restful night was avoiding her. But it was certainly the first time she dared do what she had been craving to do since that first rainy day. She gazed at Héloïse’s sleeping face and then, she started creating.

The next day, things continued to change. In the morning, Marianne delivered her drawing of Héloïse for a class, and from the first glance of her professor, she _knew_. It was good. She felt it in her heart from the first line she put on the paper, but now she had confirmation. It was much better.

There was a very specific reason for her success. The college campus, being a ground committed to playing with Marianne’s fate, it seemed, made it so that the very reason for that success was coming out of one of her classes nearby as well. Marianne and Héloïse crossed paths, sort of. At first, they didn’t even cross their gazes. Marianne was walking away from her class when she caught sight of Héloïse walking out of a classroom. She stopped in her tracks and stared for a second, but eventually lowered her eyes and continued to walk. She meant to quickly glance at her roommate once more, but her eyes inevitably lingered, and it was long enough for Héloïse’s eyes to meet hers. The intensity of those green eyes continued to take Marianne’s breath away, so she averted her eyes, but the contact had been made. So when she looked back and Héloïse was still staring at her, when the frown that rarely left her face, she walked toward her.

“Héloïse,” Marianne greeted her, “are you walking to our room?” She felt strange saying it, but it was a mere fact. They lived together now.

“Yes.”

“Can I walk with you?” Marianne asked. At this point, they had already fallen into a synchronized peace together, and they were headed the same way. How awkward would be if she said no, Marianne had a chance to think, I don’t think I could bear it.

She sighed in relief when she heard Héloïse say “Yes.” It wasn’t much, but it was a good thing. They didn’t even talk a lot on the way there. But now, at the very least, if they were drastically torn apart when they reached the building, if the world were to end that night, if nothing of real value were to happen to each of them ever again… at the very least they would have this walk together, this one experienced that they shared because they chose to. And nobody would ever be able to take that away from them. 

“Did you bring any books?” Héloïse asked when they arrived in their bedroom. It made sense she asked. Marianne had traveled light and no, she didn’t bring many books with her, but there was one she hadn’t even brought out yet. She had it basically memorized, it was a comfort read and she vehemently hoped for a good reaction from her roommate. She nodded. “Can I borrow it?” Héloïse added.

Marianne looked through her thing for a moment to find the book, and the prickle of excitement inside her that she couldn’t completely explain was so that when she handed Héloïse the book she took one more step than necessary. They passed the book from a pair of hands to another. They didn’t touch, not yet. They stared at the other one’s hands, they stayed still and silent for a moment, able to hear one another’s breath. Scared to break the moment that she didn’t have a word to name, Marianne didn’t dare look up, not until Héloïse whispered “Thank you”, but by then the blond woman was already on her way out the door. At least now she’s not going alone, Marianne thought. She didn’t particularly love the idea of Héloïse running away from their shared room to go spend it with a significant other. But not knowing what to do with her unreasonable dislike for such a thought, she simply avoided thinking about it.

In the afternoon the changes continued, unstoppable now. When Marianne went into her room, Héloïse wasn’t alone. It was the first time they had guests over. The girl was younger than both of them and she stood up from Héloïse’s bed and smiled timidly when Marianne entered the room.

“Hi! I’m Sophie,” she introduced herself.

“I’m Marianne.”

Before the polite greeting could continue, Héloïse also stood up from the bed. “I need to go out,” she said and then turned to Sophie, “stay as long as you want.”

Her voice was kinder than Marianne had ever heard it, and it made her smile. She had lived with Héloïse for pretty much two weeks now, but she felt a little more relaxed alone in the room with this girl she had just met.

“Oh don’t take it personally,” Sophie said, nodding at the door and then she let herself fall on Héloïse’s bed. She played a little with her skirt, and then glued her eyes to Marianne, waiting. “She’s like that with most people.”

“I haven’t even seen her smile,” Marianne stated. She saw Sophie think for a moment on the right answer, and the girl’s eyes filled with playfulness.

“Have you tried being funny?”

The two of them shared sincere smiled as Marianne took a seat at her own bed and opened her mouth to speak. She thought of the right words, a prelude. “Can I be curious?”

As an answer, she received a wide smile from Sophie. “I’m her cousin. I came to visit and talk about… family matters” she said, shrugging a little. “I’m staying with her mom. Keeping her company and helping her at home. They have a huge house and she’s bound to feel lonely. It’s not good to leave her all alone.”

“Why not?” Marianne was smart. She knew from the moment she asked that her question was a delicate one, but she had to try. “Sophie,” she insisted as softly as possible when the girl hesitated to reply.

“Her sister died,” Sophie whispered.

Marianne met her eyes and was shocked to silence by the intensity of the moment. She felt dozens of questions swirling in her mind and tittering on the tip of her tongue ready to fall out. But just as well she could see the negations forming in Sophie’s face. There wasn’t more knowledge available for her that day.

“As I said,” Sophie continued, “don’t take it personally if she looks like she doesn’t like you. Maybe she just doesn't like to see someone in her sister’s place.”

The next day, Marianne’s last class for the day ended early. She sat down on a park bench nearby, and tried her best at painting something, anything, from her surroundings. If she could get her inspiration back on track, she knew she could succeed at the rest of her classes, but she was still struggling. Trees, building and the wide sky were born on the page she held on her lap, but as much as she avoided it, only one face kept resurfacing in her mind. Unable to help herself, Marianne’s eyes closed. She pictured her roommate’s face. Stern. Guarded. Inquisitive. _Beautiful_. When her thoughts drifted away from the basic she needed for her painting and into tricky territories, she opened her eyes. Marianne took a deep breath and before hse got back to what she meant to do, she looked around her. She was just in time to catch sight of Héloïse, coming out of her usual classroom and glancing in the way where Marianne had been the day before. The realization made Marianne’s heart jump a little. It wasn’t that much, maybe an accident or a reflex. But it made her feel like she didn’t have to pretend too hard that she didn’t linger nearby just in case she could run into Héloïse again.

Marianne quickly started picking up her things, and when her roommate was close enough she called her. Héloïse seemed startled to hear her name, but she didn’t look at all displeased to find Marianne there.

“Were you painting something?” Héloïse innocently asked.

Upon hearing that question, Marianne purposefully tried to further hide her work. She hadn’t made a single line of the face she was aching to draw, the face speaking to her now. But she felt that Héloïse’s presence has an effect on her powerful enough so that even the blank page she was hiding could have exposed her intentions.

“Just unsuccessful attempt at painting something today, nothing else,” Marianne replied, shrugging a little. “How about you? Are you enjoying the book?”

“Very,” Héloïse nodded, “I didn’t take you for the Greek tragedy type though.”

To this unexpected playful comment, Marianne was unable to immediately reply. She chuckled, and met Héloïse’s eyes. Although her smile still wasn’t the one Marianne wanted to see from her, her eyes were amused, and it was a breathtaking sight. She desperately wanted to keep the conversation going, but she had been silenced and was struggling to break the spell. Eventually, it was obvious it was too late to reply, but just as well she felt the silence around them to be a comfortable one, and she sighed in relief. In fact, she could pretty much feel Héloïse relax beside her. Some tension, though not all, was starting to vanish.

When they reached their room and Marianne started to fear that Héloïse would put up her walls again, she made a last attempt to create a connection. “Héloïse,” she started, “if that’s your usual schedule maybe… we could make this a routine?”

“Yes,” Héloïse replied, “I’d like that.” There was only the briefest hint of a smile on her lips. But her eyes were the thing that held Marianne’s absolute attention. They were unguarded, but unreadable at the same time somehow. There was nothing obvious about the person Héloïse was, her actions and emotions, Marianne realized, but that didn’t mean she was impossible to get to know. More than a smile. Marianne was starting to crave more than just a smile from Héloïse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should mention that when I started writing this fic, since it takes place in present day I am always picturing Marianne with short hair (just like Noemie right now) and I love it, highly recommend picturing that

Small improvements are often followed by big setbacks. Marianne was getting familiarized with that realization. Some fast ups and downs were about to hit her relationship with her roommate. Neither of them was prepared.

The next time Marianne and Héloïse were walking back to their room together, unbeknownst to Héloïse, there was a half-finished drawing of her on Marianne’s bag. This time, she wasn’t asleep, but quite the opposite. The Héloïse that Marianne had created on a blank page was wide awake. But she was unfinished. Marianne was struggling to settle on the right way to present the emotions she wanted to show in her work. The painting at first was simply furious, but Marianne wanted to show more than that. There was one emotion somewhere out there, without a name or an explanation, and it was uniquely Héloïse’s. It escaped from the grasp of the painter, however. Mostly because Marianne worked out of memory, She didn’t dare ask Héloïse to pose or anything like that, she only carefully saved in her memory every glance at her roommate’s face and when she had a chance to put it on a canvas it all came pouring out of her.

On this occasion though, it seemed Héloïse had more to say than just being stared at. “Sophie is great at keeping secrets,” she blurted out a moment after they started walking. Marianne was learning that Héloïse was not one to submit to the dread of mindless conversation for the sake of anything or anybody. “But not from me,” Héloïse added, “she tells me everything.”

Her message was heard loud and clear. It was Marianne’s choice to decide if she would admit she understood, or play difficult. She felt she somehow owed it to Héloïse to try and keep up with her. What was the point in pretending? Why should she deny at all to Héloïse the honest conversation she demanded, more than requested, with her own approach?

“I’m sorry about your sister,” was all Marianne finally thought to say. She faintly heard Héloïse murmured “thank you,” but it felt less like a conscious reply and more like an acknowledgment and equal encouragement for her to keep talking. “Were you close?” Marianne genuinely wondered.

The blonde took her time to think of the right answer. “Somewhat, but not very. Close enough, I'd say… I’m okay. A couple of months of intense therapy and grieving should be enough.” That wasn’t the full answer, and both of them could tell that, but it would have to do for now. 

“I think… when you lose a loved one, you’re bound to grieve for all your life.” 

Admittedly, Marianne realized how awful her words sounded, but it was too late. She grimaced a little, but to Héloïse credit, though she was taken aback for a second, she effortlessly kept the conversation going, saying “You’ve known loss too?”

Marianne nodded gravely, “My older brother.” The subject didn’t pain her in excess, not anymore, and she wasn’t exactly uncomfortable either, but somehow she felt impatient to be over with it. So, without waiting for Héloïse to ask any more questions, she provided more information herself. “I was still a little kid when he got in a car accident. What hurts me more right now is the fact that I can feel myself forgetting about him. It’s not so easy to remember, not anymore. But if I focus a little, I can always feel his absence.”

As she spoke, she didn't directly look at her roommate walking beside her. But now that she was done and she still could feel Héloïse looking at her, Marianne couldn’t help but turn to meet her eyes. Despite the subject they were discussing, Marianne’s lips stretched in the slightest, tender smile when she saw Héloïse’s attention and care in her eyes.

“My sister killed herself,” Héloïse finally admitted a moment later. Marianne’s first thought, looking into those deep green eyes was that Héloïse was immensely brave. She tried to read those eyes and look for more. She was looking for hurt, for loneliness, more anger and perhaps something unexpected like relief. But before she got a chance to figure something new out of Héloïse, it was Héloïse who perfectly read her. “I don’t know,” the blonde woman replied to all the questions that had actually crossed Marianne’s mind and, apparently, her eyes. “She didn’t tell me.”

First, her contours. The outline. Not too fast, Marianne took a moment to close her eyes and bring back to the forefront of her mind the image of Héloïse. She took her time savoring the memory. Drawing from memory proved to be harder than she thought, but the thrill of it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Her eyes were still closed, and she was in the middle of fervently wishing she could take all the time in the world to look at Héloïse, the real one. Just then she was interrupted by someone calling her name.

“Marianne?”

It was Héloïse. She was standing by the door, leaning on the wall. Marianne’s first sight of her surprised her as much as the first day. Half of it for getting caught. She felt she had been thinking so strongly about Helosie the thoughts might reflect on her eyes. The other half of the surprise, as usual, was just a natural response to her roommate’s beauty. When her eyes found Héloïse, the woman was frowning a little, as if she had been deep in concentration, studying her for God knows how long. But when the blonde saw the shock in Marianne’s face, her features immediately softened and a chuckled born in her stomach almost made its way out of her mouth. The delicate shift of the lovely face would surely keep Marianne awake many nights to come. And the mere thought of that repressed giggle instantly became a new goal for the painter’s list.

Marianne looked down at her lap. The painting was merely starting, nobody could have really figured out it was Héloïse’s face. This was a reassurance so she didn’t have to hurry, but either way, Marianne put the picture away and looked up to see Héloïse now sitting in her own bed, already observing her.

“You were so focused,” Héloïse commented.

“I have to be.”

Héloïse leaned her back to the wall beside her bed and with her eyes never leaving Marianne, she ran a hand through her hair and asked, “Will you show me your work?”

For a moment all Marianne could do was bite her lip. Even after she overcame the distraction caused by the gentle, messy waves of Héloïse blonde hair, she was still struck by the request. She could surely show her something other than the secret portraits made of her. But being suddenly put on the spot activated her fight or flight response, and Marianne decided to improvise.

“What if, instead of that, I’ll play you a song on the piano and you’ll draw something for me?” Marianne asked with a smile and hopeful eyes. She was immediately delighted by her own idea and the sparks in her eyes showed it. On the other hand, Héloïse frowned at the unexpected request, but stayed silent. Marianne proceeded to transfer herself to one of the chairs and scoot over to Héloïse’s bed. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

With a hand gesture to her piano, Héloïse said, “be my guest.”

The invitation was taken and a second later Marianne was diving into a piece of Vivaldi. Every now and then she glanced up to gauge her roommate’s reaction, but it wasn’t enough for her to really see it. She couldn’t have seen the way Héloïse’s eyes focused on her, taking every detail of her face and moving to see the way her hands moved, but going back to stare at her face as if it was inevitable. She didn’t see the slow way in which Héloïse’s smile formed, inevitable too. 

“That was unexpected,” Héloïse commented during a pause when Marianne hesitated with the keys. “I’m full of surprises,” Marianne replied. The playful smirk that appeared on her face was promptly mirrored in Héloïse’s face, who softly said, “I bet” but she wasn’t sure her roommate heard her, being so concentrated in the keys in front of her.

“It’s the one song… Nope-” Marianne was trying to figure out a part of the song but it kept coming out wrong. “It’s the one song I learned to play just to say… to say… ugh-” She couldn’t get that part right, “To say I know how to play the piano. Which I clearly don’t.” Marianne finished with a laugh, gesturing helplessly at the piano.

Héloïse’s gaze was gentle, and her smile, if still small, was sincere. “No you don’t,” she agreed. But neither could say much more, because while Marianne struggled with the song, Héloïse had moved from her previous place, and now she was too close. They were too close. Close enough to find new colors in each other’s eyes, close enough to notice when the other one’s eyes glance at their own lips, and most definitely close enough to notice the exact moment when Héloïse’s walls came back up. Her next smile was smaller, still kind, but apologetic. She stood up from her bed, “I have to go,” she said.

If she had had time to think, she would’ve gone for a less impulsive reaction, but when it was related to her roommate, Marianne never had time to think. She reached out just in time to gently grab Héloïse’s wrist. “Where are you going?” she asked, her displeasure was evident from her tone and the frown in her face. Realizing this, she made a poor attempt at smiling and teasing again, “you owe me a drawing now.”  
Héloïse laughed softly, “Good art takes time. You should know that.” She made a move to pull her hand free from Marianne’s grasp, but not without letting the tips of her fingers linger one last moment with Marianne’s fingers in a movement that would leave the artist thinking about it for days, wondering of its significance.

After Héloïse leaves, Marianne doesn’t know what to do but close her eyes. She doesn’t feel like looking at anything that isn’t Héloïse. She sitting still but she can feel her fingers begin to twitch in anticipation and she knows she has to get to work now that she’s inspired. She moves back to her own bed and from there she creates a new image of Héloïse that grows more and more beautiful each second. Often, Marianne finds herself repeating an act that she had never done as often until Héloïse, she closes her eyes. However, each time Marianne closes her eyes to more attentively look at the memory of her roommate’s face, she takes longer to open them up. Eventually, sleep takes her and she doesn’t open her eyes for a while.

When Marianne opens her eyes again, it’s because she’s been startled out of her dreams. Something had hit her face. She sits up in a jump and the drawings on her chest slide down to her lap and some fall down to the floor. Looking down at them, Marianne also finds a pair of shoes that her eyes follow up and up until she’s looking straight into Héloïse furious eyes.

The way Héloïse is looking at her is new, new and terrible and Marianne wishes more than anything to take that look away and replace it with the gentle amusement of earlier that afternoon. She notices how Héloïse doesn’t look down to stare at the scattered papers and figures that the blonde had already seen enough.

“That… is not right, Marianne,” Héloïse says, her voice trembling with anger and an accusatory finger pointing at the sketches that don’t really manage to reflect the real thing. “I hate it,” she says, because she can’t elaborate yet and because she’s not even sure what “ _it_ ” means to her. “I hate it. And I find this sad. And I find you a coward.”

By the time Héloïse walks out of the door, Marianne is still wishing it had all been a nightmare that she could wake up from. After a deep sigh, Marianne’s hand flies to her forehead and her frown deepens. She has never regretted an art piece like this. Feeling at a loss for what else to do, she looks around the bed and finds the object that Héloïse threw at her face. It’s a piece of paper crumpled into a ball. Carefully, Marianne unfolds the paper. What she finds there takes her breath away. It’s a simple and delicate drawing of a handful of flowers. A drawing Héloïse made for her. There’s a horrible knot in Marianne’s throat as she stares at the drawing for the longest time. She studies it with adoration. She notices the drawing was made on a torn page of a book, page 28.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!  
> i don't proofread a lot and I mostly write just for fun and not that seriously so there's probably a bunch of mistakes and it's that good but I hope you like it! let me know what you think


	4. Chapter 4

Looking back on their relationship as roommates, it’s undeniable that they didn’t start off as best friends. Marianne and Héloïse didn’t have a single meaningful conversation until days and days after living in the same room. However, after being on the fortunate receiving end of Héloïse’s attention, being thrust far away again burned deeply in Marianne’s heart.

That night, as sleep continued to elude her, and Héloïse’s silence felt louder than ever, Marianne arrived to a few conclusions. Things didn’t _have_ to be like this. Meaning that both their reactions weren’t precisely the way one would normally react. Marianne convinced herself that there had to be something else to Héloïse’s despise of the secret portraits of her. She didn’t _have_ to hate them so much, and yet she did. Even if it meant that she had hurt her more than she ever wanted to, Marianne allowed herself to hope that maybe the reason Héloïse felt so betrayed was because she had some feelings towards her.

This hopeful conclusion was found parallel to another one. Marianne didn’t _have_ to be so upset about her roommate that she barely knows being angry at her. And still, she was very upset. The reason was obvious, and not even the most pragmatic parts of her brain presented much resistance to admitting that she had feelings for Héloïse. Anybody on Earth could be attracted to Héloïse. That was one of the easiest things Marianne had ever done, being fascinated by the beauty of Héloïse. Being drawn by the pull of her frown, being lit up by the glow of her smile. Getting her breath stolen by a hand gesture, having her heart stop by glancing at her lips. From the nearly painful desire to run her hands through her hair and the helpless feel of getting lost in those eyes. From head to toe, Héloïse’s body had Marianne’s absolute attention. That was a lot, and there was even more to it. Because Marianne had something to say and something to feel about each and every word of Héloïse and each and every one of her long silences. Because in her words there was never something vague, but instead a big part of herself, in her confessions, in her questions, in the clever comments she dropped out of nowhere about the book she had borrowed from Marianne. In her silence too, Héloïse was a force to be reckoned with. In their walks together Marianne had fallen in love with the way Héloïse observed the world. Her expressive face, the lift of her eyebrows, every twitch of her lips, confusion, and understanding of everything she saw.

Marianne gasped for air in her bed, as if waking up from a nightmare. The acceptance of her feelings had shaken her up, now she was restless. It was obvious, she told herself, you can’t look at someone like Héloïse for long and not fall for her. Shaking her head at herself, Marianne sat up in bed. She reached another conclusion that she’d have to execute the next morning, but first, there was some painting to do.

Marianne came out of her last class of the day late, and upset. She was barely out of the door when she was already putting a cigarette between her lips. Her anger and the smoke were distracting, she didn’t notice Héloïse walking toward her until the blonde woman was practically beside her. 

“You look upset,” was the first thing Héloïse said. 

Her voice was at once a big relief and a painful thing. Marianne noticed that her roommate was still angry at her. Her frown was in place, her eyes were guarded and her pose was tense, head held high and proud. But the curiosity and worry in her eyes were undeniable. Is it that evident I’m a mess? Marianne wondered, and at once decided that to fight Héloïse’s walls she’ll just let go of all the walls of her own.

“The professor hated my work. I’m gonna fail this class,” she shook her head and looked down.

Héloïse was thoughtful for a second and then said “I wasn’t a pretty enough subject?”

Marianne almost choked on the smoke of her cigarette, but since she couldn’t tell how serious or not her roommate was, she took the comment in stride. “You’re the most beautiful woman I know, Héloïse,” she stated, “but I didn't turn in your drawing for the class.”

"Why?" Héloïse asked, with her voice breaking, quickly before all of Marianne's words accomplished the mighty, thundering and all-encompassing effect they were certain to cause in her, in her core. In every corners and halls of heart, Marianne’s words boomed like songs of her childhood, hymns of the church, and suddenly her heart was a cathedral where the organ played in a loop "you're the most beautiful woman I know".

Marianne blew off the smoke. Between two fingers she held her cigarette and with her thumb she rubbed her forehead. "Because you hate it," she said at last. She looked up to meet Héloïse's eyes and with the slightest hint of playfulness added "and you think it's sad, and you think I'm a coward."

Their eye contact continued for one heavily charged moment. It was Héloïse who looked away, bit her lip. “Can we take the long way to our room?” she asked.

“Lead the way.”

They walked in silence for a while. Marianne finished her cigarette and followed the paths Héloïse chose. They were walking through a part of the campus neither of them frequented, seeing unfamiliar places and faces and finding the anonymity of it kind of pleasant. With that comfort, Héloïse didn’t mind so much to open up. Plus, Marianne was a great listener.

“I’m sorry if my reaction was too harsh. It isn’t because of you… it wasn’t _entirely_ because of you,” Héloïse started, then she took a deep breath to prepare herself to lay out a difficult story, mostly difficult because it was hers. “My sister was engaged. To a man that I consider disgusting. Physically, yes, but mostly I mean a disgusting person. But she was a model, and he’s a newly successful photographer on the rise. Mathematically it was a perfect match, and everyone told her how lucky she was to be the one he chose out of millions like her. Those people are awfully silent now, of course.”

“When you marry someone,” Héloïse continued, “you’re told that it’s for better or for worse. Because you become family. But you never stop to think that you already have a family that you’re stuck with, for better or for worse. And, for better or for worse, I look an awful lot like my sister. And even though the last thing I want to be is a model… that man wants me to take my sister’s place.”

“In what way?” Marianne asked in a whisper, because she couldn’t help herself.

“As a model… let’s say that for now,” Héloïse replied. And for the first time since they’ve met Marianne could say the beautiful woman by her side was genuinely uncomfortable. But Héloïse didn’t dwell for long. “In anyway, he _is_ getting rich. Which interests my mother, someone who refuses to give up the house and lifestyle she inherited and is unable to afford anymore. Not that I wouldn’t benefit from the money but… I do not want to pose. He knows this, and he’s taken my pictures without my permission before. He has… exposed those pictures. You can’t just steal my image from me and not deal with the rest of me. There’s life, there’s presence. And there’s _consent_.”

Once again, Héloïse had no issue in sending out her message in a ruthless way. Marianne couldn’t ignore it.

“From a theoretical point, I could fight you,” Marianne said, “Your presence is made up of fleeting moments that may lack truth.” Héloïse stared at her impassively, her angry eyes not blinking. Marianne stopped walking and Héloïse followed suit. They stood still, staring at each other and losing sight of anybody else around. “But I won’t,” Marianne added, “because I think you just gave me a lesson in art… and life. It’s an understatement to say I’m sorry, Héloïse. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You haven’t hurt me.”

“I have. I can tell.”

“You know it all,” Héloïse said, and look away before Marianne could decipher all the layers of her emotions. “Anyway, I have tried posing for him in the past. I hated every minute of it. I’m not made for it.”

Héloïse looked down and stayed silent. For a moment, Marianne didn’t say a word either. She focused her gaze on Héloïse’s hands. Right hand holding the left wrist. The pose was delicate, timid even. But it couldn’t hide the strength of Héloïse’s hands. For a moment they were all that existed in Marianne’s mind. They were beautiful, attractive hands. For the first time Marianne had to acknowledge that although she longed to paint those hands, more than that, she ached to touched them. To hold them tight and see where they took her.

Making an effort to go back to the conversation they were having, Marianne finally came up with an answer. “That’s nonsense,” she said. “If you didn’t enjoy it, it was his fault, not yours.” Making a pause, Marianne gulped and felt her heart skip a beat in nervousness, but she dismissed that feeling. She looked up at the beautiful woman in front of her and with a perfectly angled smile and a challenging spark in her eyes she said, “I bet I could do better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know the chapters are pretty short but this way i can update more frequently. hope you guys like it. i needed to post this tonight because life can suck lol we could use some fanfiction at the start of the week  
> anyway, this has been my favorite chapter so far! let me know if you like it! i really appreciate all the comments :)


	5. Chapter 5

Since she first arrived to her new dorm room, Marianne had seriously lacked inspiration for her art. That was a lie though. The problem was that her inspiration had been stolen by a single subject, a defiant subject, a beautiful and difficult subject that refused to be such a thing. But now that Héloïse had agreed to pose for Marianne, it was as if every bit of excitement for her craft had been returned and doubled in strength, and Marianne could barely keep still and be patient with her process. She was desperate to bring every bit of life of Héloïse to her page, she was buzzing with excitement.

Héloïse, on the other hand, couldn’t say the same thing. She was sitting in her own bed, feeling every bit as awkward as if she were in a strange room and not her own. She wanted to try though, out of curiosity, out of pride, and for some other feelings she hadn’t named yet. She wanted to try, to prove Marianne wrong, or hoping Marianne was right, or just for the pleasure of seeing Marianne completely lost in her craft, focused and passionate and much more.

“Are you comfortable?” Marianne asked her at one point. She was finishing getting all her materials ready and Héloïse got the impression that it was just an automatic question, careless and distracted and exactly like she had been asked the same thing a dozen times when nobody cared about the answer.

“No.” Héloïse replied, sincerely.

That word made Marianne drop whatever she had been doing in an instant. She straightened up and walked up to Héloïse. “Well, you _should_ be,” Marianne said, “Why don’t you lean back to the wall. Take as many pillows as you’d like.”

In the end, Marianne brought even the own pillows from her bed, and fussed around Héloïse for a couple of minutes until the blonde woman swore she was absolutely comfortable. In fact, Héloïse was so comfortable, sitting in her bed, surrounded by pillows, facing Marianne, that her newest worry was falling asleep while Marianne worked. She knew that wouldn’t happen though, because next to her head ended up one of Marianne’s pillows, and the scent of the painter was waking up all of Héloïse’s senses. She had to make an effort not to turn her head and bury her face in the pillow.

“Perfect,” Marianne whispered as she looked at Héloïse. The word had been murmured more to herself than for anyone else to hear, though Héloïse perfectly heard it and blushed. 

It was a strange moment. Timeless, Marianne thought. She wanted to just stand there and observe the woman in front of her for the longest time. She wanted to impulsively join her in bed. She wanted to paint a thousand portraits, and at once felt incapable of standing still long enough to even get through a sketch. When she stared into Héloïse’s eyes, she felt time was endless and nothing at the same time. With a trembling hand, she picked up a pencil and got to work.

After some time working mostly in silence, Marianne suggested they took a break, which Héloïse gladly accepted. Before she walked out of the room though, she looked at Marianne in her element, creating. A series of thoughts lit up inside Héloïse’s mind like fireflies. She caught the less dangerous one and with a teasing tone she said “You’re so old school.”

Marianne accepted the jab at her style, “It’s the way I learned to do it. And I’m proud of it.” Her smile was proud indeed, and Héloïse was satisfied to see it.

Eventually, Héloïse came back to their room, and she was surprised about the fact that she wasn’t dreading posing for Marianne. In fact, it was a welcomed activity outside of her usual routine absorbed in her studies. However, this time she couldn’t stay silent as much.

“Why are we doing this in the bedroom?” Héloïse asked, “I’m no expert but I doubt it’s the best… setting? Lights?”

The painter hummed thoughtfully, she was gripped by the task at hand, so she took her time to reply but eventually she answered her roommate, “it’s a beginning.”

Héloïse lifted a teasing eyebrow, “Beginning? How long do you plan on doing this.”

Without hesitation this time, Marianne immediately replied, “For as long as you let me.”

And she would be lying if she had said she wasn’t pleased to find Héloïse was speechless afterward.

They talked some more, but eventually, her fears came true, and Héloïse fell asleep among the pillows. The sight was angelical. Marianne thought that even if Héloïse’s frown, that she had grown kind of fond of, was still on her face while sleeping, she’d still find her just as precious. But that wasn’t the case. Héloïse’s face was as relaxed as Marianne had ever seen her, and she had painted her sleeping before. But there was something new, different, nearly magical about this moment. Her sleepy calm transferred easily to the painter, and Marianne felt herself facing an internal peace previously unknown.

She gave up against continuing that one portrait, and evaluated her options. A new painting of sleeping Héloïse would be wonderful, but she had learned her lesson and did not want to test the patience of the woman with blonde hair and a pretty flammable spirit. Instead, Marianne picked up the blanket laying by the foot of Héloïse’s bed and with as much delicacy as she could muster, she placed it over her sleeping roommate’s body.

Returning to her own bed, an unexpected thought appeared on Marianne’s mind. Héloïse had mention she had previously posed for her sister’s fiance, and he had used some of the photos without her permission. This meant that, should she want to make a quick research on the internet, she most likely could find said pictures. Marianne’s curiosity was spiked and almost at once her resolve deflated. Only a moment of thought revealed that this would certainly go against Héloïse’s wishes. She didn’t want to upset her anymore, ever again. She wanted to make her happy, to see her smile, to hear her laugh. The result was a brand new, much better idea that once again required of Marianne to pick up pen and paper.

By then, Marianne and Héloïse’s routine after class was slowly turning to perfection. They were supposed to get out of their last class around the same time, and whenever one of them was late, the other would wait up nearby, pretty often on the same bench. Each time she walked out of the classroom door, Marianne’s eyes immediately searched for Héloïse. Usually, she would find her already walking towards her, blond hair in a bun behind her head and her intense eyes focusing on her, maybe a little smile growing in her lips. Other days, when she knew she came out late, Marianne automatically turned toward that familiar bench, and without fault, there was Héloïse, eyebrows knit in concentration as she lost herself in a book, out of genuine enjoyment since Marianne had been amused to find out those books had nothing to do with her studies.

The situation was mirrored from Héloïse’s side, who every day looked forward to seeing Marianne walk toward her after class, with her quick step, her calm confidence, and her sincere smile. Alternatively, she also longed to find Marianne sitting at the bench, their bench, she sometimes thought with a small blush. The artist was always drawing, even if the simplest of sketches. Whenever she was sitting still for more than a couple minutes, Marianne immediately brought out her tools and started to create art.

The day after Héloïse first officially posed for Marianne, they walked together toward their room. Part of the routine now was taking different paths, taking their time, talking or not, just always enjoying each other’s company. 

“I have something to show you,” Marianne said.

When she got Héloïse’s attention, she brought out her phone. Marianne looked through it for a moment and then passed it to her roommate with a smile that she couldn’t hide. She waited eagerly and with a side of nervousness, but it wasn’t necessary. Héloïse laughed almost as soon as she glanced at the picture. She laughed, she laughed, she laughed, Marianne thought happily. The was a joyful laugh, full of appreciation, joy, unrestrained, sincere, it was just a laugh and it was without a doubt, Marianne’s new favorite sound.

Héloïse stared fondly at the cute, colorful and playful cartoonish drawing of herself. She had seen some of Marianne’s most professional attempts, and for some reason, she had never thought about the very real possibility of Marianne being capable of these fun styles. It was a welcomed, pleasantly warm knowledge.

“I like this a little more,” Héloïse said. Her voice was still tinged with laughed, and the amused spark in her eyes made her more beautiful than Marianne had seen her. 

“I know you a little more,” Marianne replied. She felt overflowing with good feelings just by seeing her roommate’s reaction.

“I’ve let you,” Héloïse thought for a second and added, “I’ve also changed a little, I think. And you’ve changed too.”

Marianne thought about it. With just three phrases, Héloïse could inspire her to go in deep meditation that could keep her thoughtful for the remainder of the day. But she had to ask, “How?” How had she changed, or more specifically, she wanted to ask how did Heloise think she had changed. 

But instead of the deeply analytical answer Marianne had grown to expect from the blonde woman, Héloïse replied with a smirk, “Your hair has grown.”

It was Marianne’s turn to laugh. Some tension leaving her body with that. She loved her chemistry with Héloïse, the back and forth, pushing and pulling, being on the edge waiting for the other’s next comment. But she felt a great sense of accomplishment upon discovering that their jokes, the banter, the laidback moments were just as delightful.

As a natural reflex, Marianne’s hand moved to her hair. It has certainly grown since she first moved in with Héloïse. The strands of hair were now long enough that she could grip them with her fingers. Héloïse’s eyes settled on the movements of Marianne’s hand in her dark hair. She felt something deep stir inside her, a powerful wish to replace that hand with her own. She had to repress a shiver. Which she disguised by speaking up. “It was the first thing about you that… got my attention. I liked it.”

It was true. When Marianne showed up at her door, her hair was wet by the rain, it was freshly cut, it perfectly complemented her features, it was sharp and it looked better on Marianne than on anyone else Héloïse had ever known.

“Maybe I should cut it again,” Marianne mumbled. She looked somewhat sheepish, something new for her, that most definitely tugged at Héloïse’s heartstrings.

“No, not yet. I like this too. It’s…”

“It’s what?” Marianne encouraged her, when Héloïse didn’t continue. She wouldn’t let her get away with it, Marianne decided, she stepped closer to Héloïse, closer than they were used to while walking together, and without thinking twice about it, she decidedly grabbed her hand, squeezed lightly.

“It’s fluffy.”

Her answer, this time, made both of them laugh. It was wholeheartedly, it was elated, it was much better. Plus, neither made a move to stop holding hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's so _fluffy ___


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to say that i really really really love Marianne and Heloise's (Noemie and Adele's) eye color. however i'm struggling putting into words or just deciding from the pictures what color they are... so please excuse me if i say the wrong color lol

It was night. She had managed to sleep the bare minimum on each night so that she wouldn’t go crazy, but once again Marianne was struggling to fall asleep. She turned around in bed for the hundredth time, sighed in frustration and this time heard an echo, a frustrated sigh coming from the other side of the room.

“ _Please_ fall asleep, Marianne,” Héloïse grumbled, sleepily.

“I’m sorry,” Marianne mumbled. She meant it, figuring out that her constant fumbling in bed had interrupted her roommate’s sleep. However, since they were in the dark, she allowed herself a small smile, because she always loved to hear Héloïse say her name, but that sleepy tone, her voice a little raspy, it was… endearing, but it was actually much more than that, and it played with Marianne’s desire.

She heard Héloïse move around and sit up in her own bed. “Do you have a cigarette?” Héloïse asked.

Welcoming something to do, Marianne made quick work of finding a cigarette, passing it to her roommate and picking up her lighter. Marianne moved to a chair in between both beds and stretched to light up the cigarette dangling between Héloïse’s lips. The fire reflected in Héloïse’s eyes seemed brighter, more powerful, capable to light both of them on fire, to burn the entire building down. Marianne gulped and leaned back on the chair, thankful for the darkness that disguised their reactions.

“You won’t have one?” Héloïse asked.

She had pulled the cigarette away from her lips, holding it in her hand. Marianne leaned forward again and said, “We can share.” She picked the cigarette, slipped it away from Héloïse’s fingers and put it in her lips.

Héloïse observed it all with unwavering attention. “Tell me about you,” she requested as soon as she got the cigarette back.

“I…” Marianne thought for a worthy anecdote, “I was kicked out of catholic school.” She enjoyed Héloïse’s amused chuckled and then continued. “I got caught making out with another girl.”

“That was all?”

“For a third time,” Marianne concluded, once again stealing the cigarette.

There was some silence then, and this time Marianne cursed the darkness for being unable to tell anything of Héloïse’s reaction other than thoughtful hums and amused chuckles. But then again, her teenage adventures weren’t even that scandalous, except for the nuns.

“I sort of miss school,” Héloïse confessed.

“Well I thought it was boring,” Marianne remarked. The cigarette was over, so she went back to her own bed, and felt Héloïse laying back down.

“It felt safe, and certain. Knowing that after finishing one year you’d go into the next one, and then the next one. You never even think of something that could threaten that consistency.” Héloïse went on about school. Her points were irrefutable. But Marianne needed the conversation to keep going.

“How did you decide to study music?” she asked.

Her query was met with silence, and she had enough time to consider Héloïse had fallen asleep, but luckily that wasn’t the case.

“When I was about four years old, I went with all my family to watch an orchestra perform,” Héloïse started. “My little mind was blown away. You can picture a little girl sobbing on the theater," she laughed a little then, " and all for reasons I still can’t put into words. It sealed my fate.”

“You believe in fate,” Marianne whispered. It was almost a statement, hiding a question that she had no idea how or why to ask.

“What about you?” Héloïse asked instead of letting the conversation complicate itself.

That was a much easier question. “My dad is a well-known painter. I’ve been painting my whole life, but every opportunity I’ve been given was because of him. I don’t hold a grudge against him, but I knew I had to take a different path if I ever wanted to be an individual. I figured that as a counteraction to his natural, wild talent, I would go to college, study technique, method, maybe even become a professor right here. It would be an honor.”

“You have a whole plan,” Héloïse said, and Marianne couldn’t fully make out the emotions behind that sentence, but she liked to imagine Héloïse was smiling as she said it. 

Afterward, the conversation continued for a little while. A little bit of everything and nothing. When Marianne was the one to fall asleep before she answered Héloïse’s last question, “Are you tired?” it was good enough for an answer. The joy Héloïse felt for seeing her roommate finally rest, was a sign for her. A line had been crossed. She knew at once that there was no going back, and that she should take the risk presented in front of her, no matter how badly it could hurt in the inevitable end.

The next day, Héloïse walked out of her last class of the day and without thinking twice about it she turned to walk the short distance to Marianne’s classroom. As she neared the place, people started pouring out of it, among them was Marianne, and Héloïse immediately realized her roommate was in good spirits. However, nothing could have prepared her for the bright smile that would take over Marianne’s face as soon as she spotted Héloïse. The brunette walked, nearly jogged toward her. Her smile was so joyful it almost turned into a laugh without any prompting.

“I passed!” was the first thing Marianne said. “I had an amazing grade for your portrait!” She genuinely laughed out of joy.

Marianne was buzzing with excitement, and when she reached Héloïse, she got a little too close, she placed her hand on Héloïse’s arm and squeezed affectionately. She was waiting for a reaction. And Héloïse couldn’t believe Marianne didn’t realize how badly she wanted to kiss her at that moment. The desire to do that, to lean in and kiss her, and kiss her and kiss her- Absorb that smile and share that joy. Kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her.

“I’m glad!” Héloïse finally replied, laughing along with Marianne, “I knew you would. It was amazing.”

“Thanks to you.”

Marianne, her words, her voice, and every detail of her face were so wonderful, so beautifully wonderful it was almost unbearable to Héloïse. She turned away from that shiny smile that she adored, and started walking. After a while, Héloïse dared to look at Marianne again, and without letting her doubts show, she asked, “Do you have plans for next week? We have five days free of all our classes.”

The brunette seemed startled. Marianne had completely forgotten about that. “I don’t know. Stay here, painting like a maniac, maybe,” she smiled.

“I will go back home, because my mom will be out of town. I thought maybe you’d like to go with me.”

There was a pause. Héloïse couldn’t tell how slowly or quickly Marianne made her choice, but when she dared turn to look at her roommate Marianne was already looking at her, a soft smile on her lips as she said, “I’d love that.”

They left in the afternoon. Marianne got her car, the one she had parked a little too far from her dorm building that first day, and she was happy to drive, even happier to have Héloïse sitting in the passenger seat. The trip was a pleasant one, not overflowing with conversation, but never awkward, not anymore. They traveled along with the sunset but by the time they reached the rich hills and lush grounds near Héloïse’s home, it was already night. Marianne imagined the scenery would be gorgeous during the day and it was a shame she couldn’t see much of it. However, she didn’t complain a lot, for she was far more focused in the woman beside her.

“One day, I want to take a drive through these hills by myself,” Héloïse said at some point.

“Can you drive?” Marianne asked her.

“I don’t know.”

Marianne chuckled softly, “You’ll crash,” she playfully said.

“I meant I don’t know if I can drive.”

That answer left Marianne silent for a moment. She told herself to never underestimate Héloïse, her words, and her mind. She must be prepared for anything, any shift in mood, any unexpected answer, and all her looks, even though she already knew that was futile, because she could never be prepared for the way Héloïse looks at her.

“I could teach you. On a sunny day,” She said at last.

“Yes,” Héloïse added, content, even though her face was serious. The big house just came into view.

The two of them would have to open the gates and drive a little further to reach that old, big house. Marianne joked it was a castle and, or, possibly haunted, and Héloïse would focus on her, instead of the cursed spot by the side of the house. Sophie welcomed them in her pajamas, and the three of them sat down to chat and eat some snacks before bed. Héloïse promised Marianne to show her the prettiest spot of the grounds around the house, and Marianne found strength enough to simply nod and head to the guest’s room, instead of doing what she really wanted to do and follow Héloïse to her room.


	7. Chapter 7

That first day in Héloïse’s house, Marianne woke up hungry. She could smell cinnamon, and was reminded that Héloïse told her her room was right above the kitchen. It was the first time in weeks that she’d gone to sleep without Héloïse in the same room and in some part of her brain she realizes that she had never missed any of her previous roommates like this. But she was desperate to see Héloïse. She dressed up in a hurry, and right before she walked out the door she glanced back at the window of the room. It showed the greenery that surrounded the house, trees and hills that only ended where the baby blue sky began. Her feet ached to run and run with the horizon as her only destination, but she didn’t want to run unless she was holding Héloïse’s hand.

Sophie had made them breakfast, because she was happy to see them, she said, and because it was an excuse to go all out instead of helping her aunt with the healthy but boring fruit salads that were pretty much all she ate in the mornings. They enjoyed their meal together and then Sophie let them know she had a date in the city so she wouldn’t be back soon. But Marianne and Héloïse agreed they were too full to just immediately go out for a walk. Instead, they walked out of the house and to find a comfortable spot nearby, where the grass was soft and a couple of scattered trees gave them enough shade.

The two women settled down in the grass and both took on a different activity to pass the time. Together, in silence, simply savoring the warm feeling or illusion of domesticity. Marianne started painting, because she just couldn’t not do it. Héloïse brought a book with her and read, mostly in silence, but whenever she came across a quote she particularly enjoyed, she re-read it out loud to share with Marianne. A couple of times they discussed it, sometimes they just absorbed the words in silence, sometimes Marianne replied by showing Héloïse the progress of her drawing, making the blonde woman smile.

After an extended period of silence from Héloïse’s part, Marianne turned toward her and found her fast asleep. Her head resting atop a blue sweater she had folded and used as a pillow, her book resting on her chest. Marianne’s previous drawing was instantly forgotten. She wasn’t sure if she could have helped herself or not, but she didn’t want to try, all she wanted was to paint Héloïse, in any and every style she could attempt. She started working on a new page, and had to admit she was working with much more care and delicacy, as if the colors touching the page were her fingers traveling down the contours of Héloïse’s face.

Marianne worked slowly, with patience, enjoying the process. She took her time looking at Héloïse’s face, then took some more time. At one point, she turned to look and found that her favorite pair of green eyes were staring back at her. Héloïse was awake. There was a spark of fear in Marianne’s heart, remembering Héloïse’s reaction to her first drawings, but this time, after a second of tension, Héloïse smiled. Her smile grew and her features relaxed, she shifted a little on the ground and then stood still, posing.

Minutes passed, and Marianne was delighted to paint Héloïse, but as the seconds passed she found it harder and harder to focus. She was restless, she didn’t really want to just paint anymore. She noticed that the soft breeze had been enough to mess a little with the blonde curls on Héloïse’s head. Marianne reached out and carefully took that little strand of hair between two fingers, she curled it, playing with it for a second before pulling back to place. But when she went to pull her hand back, Héloïse reached out, softly wrapping her fingers around Marianne’s wrist. Her eyes met Marianne’s and for a moment her resolution was absolute, but a second of hesitation made her eyes shift to a place behind Marianne, the house. Something changed in Héloïse’s eyes and she decided she couldn’t sit still anymore, not there. “I want to take a walk now,” she said.

Marianne and Héloïse walked in silence, exchanging looks, at a pace faster than necessary. Héloïse wanted to share stories of her childhood, wanted to talk about her favorite spots. Marianne wanted to listen, she wanted to ask, she wanted to memorize the details around her. But how could they, how could they focus their minds on anything other than the way the other one was looking at them. Marianne was wearing a cream-colored beanie on her head that day, every now and then she fixed it nervously. Each time, a different curl of dark hair slipped out and magnetically it made a corner of Héloïse’s lips curl into a smile.

Eventually, they reached the place Héloïse had been dreaming of. There was a small stream of crystalline water. It sounded and looked heavenly. A little to the left, the hill was suddenly steep, with the rocks from the bottom of the stream building themselves up and up into a wall against the hill, and from where a small waterfall appeared. The sight was divine. Marianne couldn’t tear her eyes away from Héloïse’s face. Héloïse, knowing those grounds like the palm of her hand, thought for a few moments and then silently guided Marianne to their right, to a place were a group of rocks stood out from above the surface of the water like tips of icebergs. She gently grabbed Marianne’s hand and helped her get through it. Marianne followed Héloïse’s steps, trying not to meet her eyes for fear she could lose her focus and slip. It was a unique dance, holding each other up, helping each other down, attentively following the other one’s steps. Once they made it to the other side of the water, they took only a couple of steps before Héloïse dropped Marianne’s hand.

Marianne stood still for a moment, watching as Héloïse got ahead of her, her pace steady. She didn’t feel like she could imitate that confident walk, even as she stared only at Héloïse’s back, she felt a little as if she could faint, or as if she were losing her mind, because never had she experienced something so strongly, and nothing had even happened yet. Eventually, she found the courage to keep walking, following Héloïse. From that side of the stream, the wall of rocks made a turn, rounding the hill, making it look like a cave had been split in half, so they were still standing under the sun while being hidden from the rest of the world. There, Marianne found Héloïse. The blonde woman was standing still, with her back against the rocks. She looked like a statue, a gorgeous one, Marianne thought, but the closer she got, the more life she could see in Héloïse.

When Marianne got close enough, Héloïse stepped away from the wall just enough, still waiting. Marianne tried to run a hand through her hair, forgetting her beanie was still there, so in a single movement she also took it off, kept it in a tight hold on her fist and stepped forward. She studied the way Héloïse fixed the scarf around her neck, loosening it, as if she couldn’t properly breathe. She wasn’t the only one. The waterfall was so near, but the loudest noise was their heartbeats, Marianne breathing through her mouth, their steps getting closer and closer and finally in a single movement they met each other in the middle, their lips meeting for the first time. 

The kiss was a lot of things at once. Perfect, was the first thing that came to mind for them and they couldn’t then really think of something other than how good it felt. It was only later that they would realize everything that kiss was. Because it was a culmination of a journey, and only a new beginning of a different one. It was an explosion of everything they were before, and the birth of something new. Everything was about their lips meeting each other, but everything was also about the mess of their arms trying to find the way around each other’s waists, holding each other, pulling each other closer. It felt vital, a necessity, yet the most luxurious privilege they’d had so far in their lives. The kiss was endless and it was over too soon, it was about the right amount of pressure and precise movements, yet it was also desperate as if their mouths were trying to break down a barrier and stumble into a new universe altogether.

Héloïse pulled away. When she did, Marianne was struck by the realization that nothing would ever be the same. Their foreheads remained impossibly close, but they didn’t touch. Only a blonde curl of Héloïse’s head tickled Marianne’s skin, but then she was walking away, leaving Marianne behind.

Marianne took her time coming back into the house, and she had a feeling that Héloïse ran all the way there, because she didn’t even get a sight of her. She took her time for a couple of reasons,. One, it was not so easy to cross the stream of water alone; two, without her mind being consumed by the effects of having Héloïse beside her, she could admire her surroundings; three, she was scared. Marianne was scared to get back to the house and have Sophie tell her to leave, that Héloïse wanted her to leave, couldn’t even bear to look at her to tell her so. She was scared to reach the house and find Héloïse tell her it was a good kiss but she simply doesn’t feel the same way. She was scared she wouldn’t even find Héloïse there. It was also a little scary how badly she wanted to see Héloïse again.

In the end, Marianne reached the house at the same time as the delivery guy and she was starving, so she let Sophie convince her to sit down and eat, even after Sophie also told her that Héloïse didn’t feel well so she wouldn’t have any pizza. Marianne felt in a daze. That could have been the best or worst pizza she’d ever had, she could have had only a piece or maybe four, she couldn’t remember, she couldn’t care. She went upstairs and looked to the right. There, closed, was Héloïse’s bedroom door. If she was genuinely sick, maybe she needed somebody. If she was actually avoiding Marianne, she probably locked the door. But after a moment of thought, Marianne realized that she couldn’t really picture Héloïse in either of those scenarios. She didn’t want to be entitled and believe she perfectly knew Héloïse, but those theories no longer seemed plausible. Marianne’s train of thought halted, and instead, her body took over and in quick steps her feet turned around and got her into her bedroom, where Héloïse was waiting.

The sight of Héloïse, standing in the middle of the room, staring right back at her, was startling for Marianne. A little like the first time she saw her, Marianne thought, like she had been running the entire way and had just knocked against an impenetrable wall. This time, however, Marianne swiftly walked through that invisible wall. Héloïse’s eyes were inviting, on the other side there was only desire.

Marianne got as close to Héloïse as she could without touching. Then she started leaning in, slowly, slowly. Her head fell on Héloïse’s shoulder and she breathed in. Her hands hesitantly rested on Héloïse’s waist and Marianne realized she had never felt this close to anybody.

“Are you scared?” Marianne asked Héloïse. The question was unplanned, it simply escaped her lips.

Héloïse’s answer was measured, “I am terrified,” she said honestly, as her own arms moved to wrap themselves around Marianne, bringing her closer and closer.

In a swift but slow movement, Marianne turned her head away and with a little push from Héloïse, she turned her full body around, leaving her back to Héloïse, who, without wasting any more time leaned in and placed a soft kiss on the back of Marianne’s neck, earning a sigh from the brunette. The kiss made Marianne feel like she had been shot and in the back of her mind she wondered, how did Héloïse knew that was the right spot, how did she knew that’s where a button would tear down all of Marianne’s defenses, how did she knew her warm breath in that spot was the key to open all the doors of Marianne’s mind and body, how…

“Is it possible to want someone this much?” Héloïse whispered near Marianne’s ear. With one hand she was firmly holding her in place, feeling the chills that ran through one of their bodies and both at once. Her other hand started traveling upwards, barely grazing Marianne's body, That adventurous hand eventually rested for a moment in Marianne’s collarbone. “I know what I want,” Héloïse whispered next. Her hand continued moving up, delighted in the trail of Marianne’s neck and the discovery of her soft lips. Her touch was so faint yet the most powerful thing Marianne had felt thus far. “I imagine I know what you want too,” Héloïse added, her voice no more than a murmur that sneaked its way into Marianne’s head, taking over her brain.

“How?” Marianne finally managed to ask. It took all her strength to say so. Héloïse’s lips finally made contact with Marianne’s ear. Then her lips started moving down Marianne’s jaw, giving and taking all the life in Marianne, 

It was all too much and just enough to make both of them act and suddenly Marianne had turned around once again in Héloïse’s arms. They were now staring right into each other’s eyes. Marianne was breathing through her mouth and it made Héloïse smile knowingly.

“I’ve been looking at you,” Héloïse finally replied.

There was no other option for Marianne at that moment. She met Héloïse’s lips with her own. She poured everything in that kiss. The remnants of hesitation from their first kiss were gone. Marianne’s lips were hungry. She wanted to give everything up to Héloïse’s lips, she wanted to take all from them.

One of Héloïse’s hands had found its way to the back of Marianne’s head, who felt vaguely like Héloïse was all around her. Héloïse’s fingertips got lost in the short hairs she found there, she tugged a little, her fingernails scraped softly, and Marianne responded with a sigh that Héloïse was determined to hear in crescendo all through the night ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at first i had thought of many other things they'd do before they had sex but... it's 2020 now, we don't have the patience of the eighteenth century and i just reallyyy wanted to write this lol  
> I hope it was good! Let me know what you guys think.  
> I'm sorry if I took too long to update, I actually had it ready it but  
> 1 i got distracted watching birds of prey and falling in love with the characters and writing a one shot and  
> 2\. my internet connection was so shitty i literally couldn't update until today.  
> but the good news is that the next chapter is almost ready and so it hopefully won't take very long  
> thanks everyone for reading!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was sponsored by: we fucking hate the cesar awards, and we fucking love Adèle Haenel

Héloïse’s slumber was interrupted by simultaneous disturbances of her senses. On one hand, she heard a soft knock on the door, on the other, she felt she bed shift beside her, and then her mind registered that this bed didn’t smell like hers, but it was still a familiar scent, and it made her smile faintly, still half asleep.

“Marianne? Do you still want to go with me?” Sophie’s voice sounded from the other side of the door.

A little confused, Héloïse finally opened her eyes to the light of the guest room.

“I’m coming,” Marianne’s voice sounded from behind Héloïse.

With excitement she couldn’t contain and a smile she couldn’t hide, Héloïse quickly turned her head to face Marianne. It was a delicious sight. Marianne was holding herself up with one arm and looking down at Héloïse. Her short hair was a mess, and Héloïse had never loved it more, even though she could remember last night, her hands attached to Marianne’s hair, holding her in place at times, bringing her closer later on, and sometimes just holding on to her because she needed to.

“You have to wake up,” Marianne said in a voice that was impossibly sweet and soft.

It woke Héloïse up, of course. But it didn’t make her want to leave the bed, far from it. Her eyes enjoyed the luxury of seeing Marianne’s content face, lovely eyes and the gorgeous shapes of her body that the sheets allowed to see. Determined, Héloïse lifted her head up just enough to meet Marianne’s lips that had been already searching for hers. Her last logical thought for the moment was hoping that Sophie wasn’t in a hurry, because her plans to kiss Marianne didn’t have a scheduled end.

Unfortunately for Héloïse, Sophie actually was in a hurry, she had a doctor’s appointment to get to, and during dinner the previous night Marianne had promised to drive her there. This information, however, had no reason to come up in conversation between Héloïse and Marianne throughout the night. The result was a slightly grumpy Héloïse sitting in the passengers’ seat. “Do I get an explanation now?” she asked at her company inside the car.

“It’s just a check-up, no big deal,” Sophie explained as she stared out the window from the backseat of the car. “Marianne offered to drive me there.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Héloïse asked.

Her question this time was aimed exclusively at Marianne. It was only when she saw a blush spread faintly in Marianne’s face that Héloïse understood.

“I was… _distracted_ ,” Marianne replied, her voice cracking in the middle of the last word.

Héloïse bit her lip, and before either of them could think of something to say to change the subject of conversation, Sophie chuckled, “Yeah, I don’t need to know all the details.”

“Sophie!” Héloïse exclaimed, turning in her seat in order to send a scowl in her little cousin’s way.

“What?! I won’t say anything, I swear!” the youngest woman tried to defend herself, “It’s not like I want my aunt to find out you want to turn down Mr. Millionaire. She’d probably try to get _me_ to marry him next. And he’s not only ugly but also more than twice my age.” Her words held so much more weight than she had calculated.

Marianne softly said, “What?” but Sophie didn’t hear, and the look Héloïse gave her was anything but an answer.

“Sophie… shut up,” Héloïse demanded with the perfect balance of boldness and easiness that’s not only a granted quality that comes with family, but something that’s earned after entire lives of trust.

After that, the conversation was sparse though, and luckily they arrived quickly to the doctor’s office. There, they didn’t have to wait for long. They had been right on time and Sophie didn’t have any problems getting in. The one thing Héloïse found difficult to do, was sitting down on the waiting area, beside Marianne, and pretend everything was still okay. Was she pretending though? At this point, she was aware Marianne could read her like a book, and even if that wasn’t the case, she wasn’t holding back her frown. 

“Talk to me,” Marianne finally said when the silence stretched too much.

Something about the way she asked, instead of demanding specific answers, made Héloïse relax a little. Still, she barely glanced at Marianne, trying to look straight ahead even if the woman beside her had no trouble sitting sideways on the chair to look directly at her.

“My sister’s fiance… he’s a creep,” Héloïse shrugged, “He chose her based on her pictures. He only wants a model he can call a wife. He already chose a face that looks like mine, he’d have no problem taking me.”

“And your mother?”

“ _She_ would marry him if she could,” Héloïse rolled her eyes, there was venom in her words, but also sincere hurt. “She says I should work with him, it’d be good for us. She says that if my sister loved him, I could learn to like him. But I know she’s trying to say I could love him too someday. Problem is, I know my sister didn’t love him, didn’t even like him. So how could they ask for anything from me at all.”

Marianne had a million questions she wanted to ask. She had enough time to consider that maybe the waiting room at a doctor’s office wasn’t the best place to talk about these matters, but before she truly decided to keep talking or not, Sophie came out of the door, looking pale and in shock.

At dinner that night, the three women ordered take out food again, and Sophie looked much calmer as she finished her food.

“This is okay, right? People get abortions all the time, right? It’s okay…” she mumbled. Her confidence was still wavering, but it looked like she had made a final decision.

“ _Yes_ ,” Marianne told her with as much conviction as she knew how to convey. She reached out to reassuringly hold Sophie’s hand and added, “If it’s what you really want, it’s okay. It’s not as bad as people make it seem it is, I promise.”

Sophie nodded, acknowledging Marianne’s words, but she was lost in her own thoughts. She continued to stare intensely at the food on the plate in front of her. It was Héloïse the one to really react to the brunette’s words.

“Have you gone through this before?” Héloïse asked.

“Yes,” Marianne replied easily, nodding along, and because she didn’t really feel shame and wanted to show that to Sophie, and also because she was enamored by the curious green eyes and sweet voice on the other side of the table that silently or not always wanted to know more, she added, “I wasn’t in love then, and I didn’t want a family either.”

Héloïse nodded, taking in the words. She glanced at Sophie, who was starting to look a little pale, only playing with her food instead of actually eating it. But her gaze was magnetically redirected back to Marianne, and the questions just kept coming.

“Do you think you’ll want to, someday?” she asked.

“A family?” Marianne asked, finishing her food and letting her complete attention be taken by Héloïse, who shook her head in negation.

“To be in love.”

The clarification of the question made Marianne feel a little breathless. Only Héloïse, Marianne thought, only she is brave enough for these conversations. Still, Marianne surprised even herself when she didn’t hesitate longer than a second.

“Yes,” Marianne confidently answered.

There was a moment of tension, it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was full of promise, and a smile was starting to timidly grow in Héloïse’s lips, drawing Marianne in like a trick of hypnotism. That was the moment when Sophie stood up so suddenly her chair fell back, “I think I’m going to be sick,” the younger girl barely managed to say before she ran away to the bathroom, her cousin and newest friend following closely behind.

Despite the stressful day and the emotional news she had just received, Sophie insisted that the last thing she wanted to do after dinner was to retreat to her room to be alone with her thoughts. That’s how the three womans staying at the house ended staying up well into the night. Mostly they stayed by the dining table, where Héloïse and Marianne tried their best at distracting and cheering up the youngest one.

For a while, they only talked, but their conversations were extraordinary things. There were moments when Héloïse, prompted by anything really, would launch herself into passionate arguments that could get very political or very philosophical. This was a new side of the blonde woman that had Marianne’s heart definitely beating a bit faster. Not only she loved the brilliance and intensity of Héloïse’s words, she was also endeared by the way Sophie kept asking more and more questions, looking as if she were in the brink of pulling out pen and paper. Many stray thoughts and excited hand gestures from Héloïse later, Marianne would kindly share a point that would help the other one get back on track to what they had been talking about. Héloïse would gracefully nod and smile at Marianne in gratitude, and Marianne would return the gesture, because she was grateful for Heloise’s smiles.

The conversation definitely included plenty of lighthearted interludes. The women discussed their favorites of every subject they could think of. Favorite movies and Tv shows, songs and singers, books and poems, foods and drinks. Marianne’s favorite part was whenever Héloïse would tightly close her eyes and repeatedly snap her fingers, trying to remember her favorite quote from a book or passage from a poem. When Héloïse would finally share the words she had been searching for, each and every time Marianne found she loved them. Probably because to her everything sounded great in Heloises’ voice, more meaningful and important, more raw and interesting, sweeter and lovelier too. In that pair of green eyes, Marianne would have believed _anything_ Héloïse said to be possible.

On the other hand, Héloïse’s favorite moment was when, probably because the wine started flowing too freely into their glasses at some point, after discussing favorite songs she asked Marianne to sing her favorite one and the brunette had agreed, and actually sang a verse and chorus of her favorite song. For a moment, Héloïse thought she’d regret ever asking at all, because all the emotions she felt while watching a slightly inherited Marianne sing directly at her, well, that was a little too much. But _she_ wasn’t one to back down from a little too much. So, she held the eye contact, she felt her body hum with every note Marianne hit and she inevitably let her eyes delight in the sight in front of her. Marianne’s hazel eyes looking at her, her brow furrowing or her lips smiling depending on the lyrics, the shape of the lips giving life to the song, Marianne’s hand moving through her dark hair, playing with the already messy short strands of hair.

Eventually, after Héloïse rummaged through some drawers and found what she had been looking for, the three of them settled down to playing cards, and it was their favorite part of the night. They shared many laughs, unrestrained in a way that they couldn’t enjoy every day. Sophie certainly enjoyed beating her cousin in most games, and how Marianne would hate to lose against Héloïse. She was even more amused by the way that Marianne and Héloïse reacted whenever their hands brushed on the table. They would linger, they would make eye contact and smile, sometimes one would blush, and sometimes Sophie had to clear her throat to break their moment so they could actually keep playing. Then Marianne would definitely blush, while Héloïse would look at her with a nearly murderous stare that Sophie knew was mostly harmless (when directed at her, at least).

However, as fun as the game was, the three of them quickly realized they were exhausted. Héloïse had pulled up her hair in a messy bun that actually left most of it still free, her charming green eyes were sleepy and she couldn’t stop yawning. Marianne thought she was the most adorable person she’d ever met, unaware that Héloïse was thinking the exact same thing about her, considering Marianne’s hair that was as softly messy as if she’d just woken up, her drowsy smile, and the way she kept rubbing her face to stay awake. They were still making an effort for Sophie, mostly for Sophie at least, and it paid off at the moment Sophie finally stood up, very tired but with a content smile on her face.

“Guys, thank you for everything. I’m going to go to sleep for two days now but I’ll see you later. Goodnight!” Sophie said as she left the room.

Marianne hesitated for a second, but the several cups of wine and the sleep that a moment ago was making her almost doze off, now made her reckless and encouraged her to take a small risk. “Sophie, wait,” she said, leaving right after her. Behind her, she left a very sleepy Héloïse, fumbling with the pack of cards and barely noticing the other two had left her.  
Once in the hallway, Marianne reached Sophie, but kept walking a few more steps until she was sure they were out of Héloïse’s possible hearing range. She placed a hand on Sophie’s shoulder, tried to find courage and balance.

“Sophie…” Marianne started saying. She hesitated, because she had been planning to ask, but now she wasn’t so sure she should, could or wanted to, but she asked anyway, “can you tell me more about how Héloïse’s sister died?”

The younger woman was clearly not expecting that, but she seemed too tired to really be startled. She looked sad. Sophie sighed and looked down. “She had a habit of going up to the roof of the house, to be alone. One day she jumped…”

“She jumped?” Marianne repeated, incredulous even though she had never met her, “it couldn’t have been an accident?”

Sophie slowly shook her head, “No,” she said. “I was here that day. I didn’t hear her scream. I only… I was the one who found her.”

The way Sophie’s voice turned into barely a whisper by the end, it was more than enough to break Marianne’s heart. She was frozen, oblivious as to what to do next. She had to give credit to Sophie though, who that night proved she was stronger emotionally than anybody would expect. The younger one placed her own hand on top of Marianne’s that was still resting on her shoulder and she squeezed. She was going to be fine. “Goodnight,” she managed a small smile and then walked to her room in silence.

Marianne’s brain felt like it was at the brink of something, about to overflow. Her days with Héloïse were magnificent, but they could have that effect. That’s not to say that all the feelings Héloïse inspired in her were harsh and overwhelming. Because next thing she knows Marianne walked back into the kitchen and found that Héloïse had fallen asleep there. Her head resting on her arms on top of the table, the cards scattered around and her blond hair softly framing her face. The scene was all kinds of peaceful and warm and delicate, it was nearly angelical, it made Marianne yearn to be in love more than ever before, and maybe begin to acknowledge that she already was.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i'm just gonna say it. i loved this chapter. i hope you do too

“Can I ask you something?”

Marianne’s question made Héloïse avert her eyes from the picturesque scene in front of her and glance at the brunette. They were currently on top of the hill from where the small waterfall ran into the stream near Héloïse’s house. Going up there hadn’t been exactly a piece of cake, but neither one complained about it. They had to climb a steep set of rocks, relying a lot on the trust they had into each other to hold themselves up, help each other down, and keep each other steady. The tension was a bit exciting. Although it wasn’t high enough for their lives to be at risk, letting go of the other one’s hand could have resulted in a nasty fall. Perhaps they held a little too tightly, too closely, too intimately, but the fact remained that they made it to the top safe and soundly.

They had carried two bags there. One had supplies for a really nice picnic they had planned, and the other had Marianne’s painting tools. After they were done with their meal, the dessert, and a very pleasant interlude to make out while laying on the soft and vibrant green grass of the hill, it was time to paint. This time, Marianne wanted to capture Héloïse’s profile. They were both near the edge of the hill, sitting cross-legged. Héloïse was staring straight ahead, at every beautiful inch of the green grounds that surrounded the house her mother was so desperate to keep. Marianne was only looking at Héloïse, but her question prompted the blonde woman to turn her face and meet her eyes, nodding.

“You… don’t really feel like…” Marianne hesitated, not sure of the best way to pose her question, “You don’t really feel under total obligation to work with, or marry this man just because it’d be convenient for…”

“For all of us,” Héloïse confidently completed the sentence. “It would be damn convenient for all parties involved.”

Marianne didn’t seem convinced, she sighed, “Right. But… I mean, at the end of the day it’ll be your choice, right? You know, it’s the twenty-first century and everything.”

Although Marianne smiled timidly, and her charming smile usually disarmed Héloïse, this time was different. Héloïse frowned, lifting one eyebrow in a look that if Marianne didn’t know it better she could have been intimidated.

“Are we _free_ , Marianne?” Héloïse asked, finally turning her entire body so that they were facing each other. Marianne opened her mouth slightly, but she knew she didn’t stand a chance at answering, and thankfully Héloïse didn’t wait for an answer. “Legally? Sure,” she added, “But socially? Free from the burdens and responsibilities of society, economy, family?” The pressing questions made Marianne lift both eyebrows in surprise, she tilted her head, trying to think, trying to make sense at once of Héloïse and the world they lived in. Héloïse was relentless with the questions, but for the final one she waited for an actual answer, “What will you do right after we graduate?” she asked.

At this point, Marianne had started breathing through her mouth, she felt an unpleasant tension building up inside her. While it was usually thrilling, sometimes Héloïse’s bold nature and ability to leave her speechless was inconvenient. This time, the only thing Marianne could answer was “I don’t know.” She looked a little resentful, as if she had been forced to admit something she didn’t want to.

That was clearly the answer Héloïse had been looking for. She didn’t really smile at it, but her eyes showed a strange combination of emotions, Marianne thought. It was as if a shade of green showed a glint of triumph, but a shade of gray was simply disappointed. She didn’t blink for a long moment.

“I don’t know how you manage to _not_ know, but I kind of envy you that,” Héloïse said slowly, a little sadly, “That’s why you don’t understand me.”

“I do understand you,” Marianne replied immediately.

The way she didn’t hesitate to answer was very interesting to Héloïse, she couldn’t yet make sense of it, but her heart was finding it difficult to not believe Marianne’s words. They were silent again. Héloïse studied Marianne’s face for a moment, but then when she looked away Marianne let out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding. She also turned her eyes away from the vision of the fiery blonde woman sitting in front of her. But her eyes only moved to the picture she was holding in her lap. It couldn’t compare, not really, but it took her breath away all the same. She studied her work, with the eye of a professional, with the eye of a lover, she paid attention to the sweet blush in Héloïse’s cheeks, the soft contours of her face. The real version did no longer looked like that.

“You’re upset,” Marianne blurted out, as soon as the thought took shape in her mind.

“I’m not,” Héloïse retorted.

“Yes you are, I can tell,” Marianne added. “Your anger is the easiest thing to notice about you, Héloïse.”

Héloïse scoffed, “Really? What else have you noticed then?”

Marianne took her time to answer, evaluating all the different directions in which her answer could take them. When she made a decision, a gentle smirk made an appearance on her lips, and the gesture excited Héloïse even against her will. “I’ve noticed when you want me as far away from you as possible. But I’ve learned to notice when you’ve wanted me to stay. I’ve noticed when you’re trying not to smile, or laugh, and also how beautiful you look when you do. I’ve noticed when you feel like running away, or like burning the whole world down…”

Marianne’s voice drifted off, and by the time she was done Héloïse had to look away to collect herself. “You notice everything,” she mumbled, not looking very pleased.

“I’m sorry,” Marianne said, but she smiled a little, “As an artist, I’m in a position of…”

“We’re in the same position,” Héloïse interrupted her somewhat harshly, “ _exactly_ in the same position.” Marianne seemed startled by the harsh edge in Héloïse’s words, but she didn’t fight her, and when Héloïse extended a hand and said, “Give me your stuff,” Marianne promptly passed her the unfinished drawing and the pencil with which she had been working with. Héloïse moved a little closer so that they were sitting right in front of each other, their knees nearly touching. She looked at Marianne very seriously for a moment. She admired the curious hazel eyes, the strong eyebrows above and the soft lips below, the long and attractive neck, the soft curls of dark hair that once again were escaping from underneath the beanie she wore. Then she started speaking.

“I’ve noticed when you wish I’d smile at you, and when you’re scared I’m about to snap at you. I’ve noticed when you’re concentrated in your work when you’re proud of what you’re done and when you immediately regret a choice. I’ve noticed when you’ve wanted to chase after me. When you want to freeze and immortalize a scene, and when you’re so upset that you become careless. I’ve noticed your curiosity, hesitation, admiration, fear and desire, Marianne. Do you want me to tell you all the things I noticed about you the other night?” Héloïse finished with a challenging smile.

Marianne was simply speechless afterward. She lifted her eyebrows in surprise and she struggled to breathe normally and find something to say. In the end, she said the only thing she genuinely wanted to say, “ _Yes/ _.” And after that, it’s like neither of them could move fast enough to get to each other.__

__

__A while later, Héloïse and Marianne were both laying on their backs in the grass, trying to get their breathing back to normal. Héloïse looked greatly more relaxed in comparison to her face during their previous argument. With both hands she was trying to push her hair away from her face, tame it a little after it had become a mess. Then she rested her head, not on the grass, but on Marianne’s beanie that had come off pretty soon after they had started kissing. Which of course, reminded her to turn to look at the beautiful woman beside her, her messy hair in all it's glory, the blush in her cheeks, a faint mark left on her neck by Heloise's. Close beside her, Marianne was shifting in place a little bit as she finished buttoning up her pant and pulling up the zipper. When she was done, she turned to look at Héloïse. The glorious sight of the woman beside her, who looked completely unbothered by her still totally unbuttoned shirt, sent shivers down Marianne’s spine. She had to turn her head away again, and they both glued their eyes to the sky, to the passing clouds above them, only witnesses of their love. Marianne was struck by the thought that if it couldn’t be Héloïse’s face the last thing engraved in her eyes if the world were to end and she were to die in that instant, she would happy it would be the sky and not a ceiling, she would be happy they were staring at the same sky, _together_._ _

__Marianne had something to ask though. She had many questions she wanted to ask really. She had realized that her feelings for Héloïse were too great to disregard or pretend she’d be able to turn them off when the moment came. She needed to know that if she were to set her feelings free they would be able to breach the few inches separating them that sometimes felt like an impossible distance, and if they would be welcomed or reciprocated from the other side. “Is that what you’ll do then? After graduation?” she asked finally. Because she needed to hear it from Héloïse, that their time together had an expiration date, and it had been there the entire time._ _

__Héloïse nodded slowly and resolutely. She was silent for a moment, looking like she didn’t want to say anything else, but still, she did it. “Move to Millan and sell my soul in exchange for economic freedom for me and my mom? Yes.”_ _

__Afterward, Héloïse turned her head and found Marianne already looking at her. Their eyes met, and the exchange of emotions there was so quick and powerful that neither of them managed to completely notice the rapid succession of emotions until it was too late. Marianne’s immediate rejection of Héloïse answer, met with something like hopefulness being born in Héloïse’s eyes, something that disappeared, turning into resignation when facing the presence of early grief in Marianne’s eyes. Marianne, who also decided to do anything to get away from the heartache she felt and saw reflected back to her in Héloïse’s eyes._ _

__“What would you want to do?” she asked, turning her face away and moving her eyes back to the blue sky above them, “What would you _really_ want to do after graduation, if you didn’t have to please anyone but yourself?”_ _

__She heard Héloïse hum thoughtfully, shuffle a little in her place, and she waited patiently for an answer._ _

__“I’d want to move right to the center of Paris. I’d make my own home, and I’d play music the entire day. I’d be free.”_ _

__Heloïse's answer, spoke slowly, carefully and full of meaning, made it possible so that Marianne could perfectly picture an entire life by simply hearing three little sentences. She smiled at the onslaught of visions she had of Héloïse living that life she wanted. She could see her, walking the Parisian streets, unhurried and admiring everything around her, but still confident and quick-paced because Marianne couldn’t imagine her differently, unknowingly or not stealing the attention of anybody who would be lucky enough to catch sight of such an incredible woman. She could see her at home too, at her own home, without reasons to be angry, content in a place she’d never feel the need to run away from. She could imagine her, playing the piano in the early mornings and under the colorful lights of sunsets, at any time she pleased, just because it pleased her. It was a beautiful thing to imagine. Marianne couldn’t really imagine Héloïse in Millan, and she didn’t even want to try conjuring up that image._ _

__Before it was too late, Marianne got out of her daydreams and back to the conversation at hand. “Alone?” she asked, a little playfully._ _

__“Isn’t that the same as being free?”_ _

__“Do you really believe that?”_ _

__Héloïse stayed silent for a moment. Her brow was furrowed, but this time in a way that Marianne found absolutely lovely. She wasn’t angry right now, she was thoughtful._ _

__“I don’t know if I’ve had a chance to find out. I’ll let you know someday.”_ _

__And again, silence, but of the best kind. While the two of them got a little lost staring at the soft clouds passing above them, a funny thought occurred to Héloïse. She remembered once reading that otters hold each other’s hands as they float, so that they don’t drift apart. Héloïse smiled. Adorable, she thought, and _very_ reasonable. She moved one of her hands a few inches, just so her pinky finger could brush against Marianne’s. She felt Marianne’s finger flinch a little bit in surprise, but then it moved closer, pushing against Héloïse’s finger. Tentatively, slowly, playfully, their fingers found a way to intertwine. They stayed like that, just holding hands and not holding back their smiles. There wasn’t a single physical force strong enough to break them apart at that second, but it didn’t hurt to be extra cautious._ _

__When Héloïse felt Marianne staring at her again, she turned her head so they both could look at each other._ _

__“You’re so beautiful,” Marianne whispered, almost choking on her words, disbelieving of her own luck at simply seeing the woman beside her._ _

__Héloïse chuckled softly, “Let me guess, you want to paint me right now?” she asked._ _

__To her surprise, Marianne lightly shook her head, “No.” It was the faintest of whispers to declare the strongest of feelings. She didn’t want to paint. All she wanted was to look. She wanted to look at Héloïse forever. Maybe touch, but she would be content just looking closely like this, knowing she was already fortunate in the extreme. Marianne smiled, knowing that Héloïse could recognize her look at the very moment. She wanted to freeze time and immortalize the scene._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun drinking game: take a shot every time i mention marianne's short hair in this fic. bonus points if it's the beanie
> 
> thank you so much reading and thank youuuu to everyone leaving comments they literally brighten all my days!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what celine sciamma says: everyone is a top  
> what i hear: make marianne and heloise switch places!!

A chuckle escaped Marianne’s lips. She bit her lip to stop it from happening again, but it was useless.

“Are you laughing at me?” Héloïse asked. Her frown looked characteristically angry, but it lasted about two seconds before a disobedient smile broke into her face.

“I’m not!” Marianne defended herself, but it was in vain since she continued to laugh.

Héloïse glanced at her for a brief second, and as much as she adored, seriously loved, whenever Marianne directed at her one of those big and bright smiles, she turned her face away quickly and was determined to wipe that smile off her face.

A second later, Marianne let out a little high-pitched scream, “ _Héloïse!_ ”, and slammed her hands on the dashboard to brace for the sudden halt.

They had spent most of the day in the car. The roads that lead to Héloïse’s house weren’t exactly ideal for learning how to drive, but they were entirely empty, so they took their chance. At first, Marianne drove and Héloïse observed. She made the most out of her opportunity, learning, and enjoying the view. Eventually, Héloïse got behind the wheel, and slowly but surely, with Marianne in the passenger’s seat, she started gaining confidence. It was still an unsteady business, with random halts and nervous accelerations, sharp or too slow turns. Often, Marianne would have to reach out to the wheel and place her hand over Héloïse’s, at first in a haste, to save the car, her lives, and the nearby trees, but she always lingered, enjoying the contact. What she enjoyed the most though, was Héloïse’s intensely focused stare. Héloïse was frowning, her posture tense, her jaw clenched, eyes alert and fingers tightly closed on the stirring wheel. Unable to help herself, Marianne’s endearment manifested in a laugh. And after spending most of the afternoon driving up and down the same road, Héloïse had grown confident enough so that when Marianne laughed again she made a sharp turn to the right and violently pulled on the breaks. 

“What the fuck?” Marianne asked. It was a breathless whisper, she was still getting over the faint feeling of expecting death via either a car crash or a heart attack. She was surprised to see Héloïse’s face was mostly serious, except for the small smile growing on her lips, reminding her of the first time she had agreed to pose for Marianne.

“You were laughing at me,” Héloïse explained with a nonchalant shrug, as if she hadn’t just left tire marks on the asphalt below.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Be serious,” Héloïse interrupted. She held back her smile when she saw Marianne silently did as asked, but her green eyes showed how pleased she was. After a few seconds of intense silence, she added, “Keep still.”

The last words had been barely a whisper, but in the intimacy of her car, Marianne heard them loud and clear. She was feeling some sort of whiplash from the fast twist in emotions Héloïse had sent her through in a matter of seconds. Her brain couldn’t focus on anything except for being serious, keeping still, and trying to keep breathing even as she saw Héloïse ever so slowly lean forward, closer and closer until their lips met.

A while later, Marianne walked out of the car craving a cigarette. Confident that they were completely alone around there, she didn’t bother putting back on the red sweater that Héloïse had taken off her a little after they had started kissing. Marianne leaned against the hood of the car, enjoying her cigarette and the peaceful atmosphere around them, the solitude, the breeze going through the trees, the sounds of it all. A moment later, Héloïse joined her. The blonde was properly dressed and in one hand she was holding Marianne’s sweater, which she tossed at her with a playful comment, “Exhibitionist.”

Marianne laughed, accepted the sweater as well as Héloïse stealing the cigarette from her with an added comment, “And this is an awful habit you have.”

While she put on the sweater, Marianne asked with an equal teasing tone, “The smoking? Or _you_?”

Héloïse didn’t reply, she blew out the smoke and smiled at Marianne, who couldn’t help but return the gesture.

For a short while they stayed like that, silent, basking in the peace of the moment and each other’s company. Eventually, Héloïse broke the silence with a question that would knock the air out of Marianne’s lungs.

“When you find yourself dreading something that will happen, do you prefer to think about it and prepare yourself, or completeñy ignore it for as long as possible?”

Marianne gulped. She looked away, and pondered the question in her mind, “Ignore it. I think I prefer a distraction,” she said, “it’s a way of avoiding hope.”

For a second after she said it, she immediately regretted it, for she could have sworn she saw some disappointment, perhaps some hurt in Helosie’s eyes. But before she could figure out why, Héloïse had turned her back to her and started walking away.

“Follow me,” Héloïse said over her shoulder, leaving the asphalt behind and entering the greener side of the property.

“Where are we going?” Marianne asked, hurrying to catch up with Héloïse

“You’ll see.”

Marianne stayed silent then. She simply followed Héloïse, feeling strangely captivated by the sight in front of her. Héloïse’s silhouette in the dark blue hoodie, the blonde hair held up in a bun, her confident and quick pace through a path that only she knew. At about the same time that Marianne took notice of the sound of water running nearby, Héloïse started to pick up the peace. Marianne had to nearly run to keep up with her.

Then, as suddenly as it started, Héloïse stopped moving altogether, with Marianne following right behind. Héloïse finally turned to face Marianne. They were both slightly breathless. “I’ve dreamt of doing this for a long time,” Héloïse said.

Standing still and trying to regain her breathing, Marianne looked around. They were back at the stream of water near the house, but at a very different part of it. It was right in the middle of a clearing, the grass was soft underneath their feet, the water was calm and crystalline and looked even deeper than back at the waterfall. It was beautiful.

“Visiting this place?” Marianne asked, a hint of confusion on her tone.

Héloïse smiled. “Swiming with you,” she clarified.

Her words made Marianne lift her eyebrows in surprise. The brunette didn’t know what to say, and her state was worsened by the sight of Héloïse turning her back to her again, and slowly taking off her hoodie. As much as Marianne loved the view of Héloïse’s back, there was a spark of anxiety growing in her own chest, among other emotions, since Héloïse started taking off her pants too.

When she was left only in her underwear, Héloïse turned to face Marianne and was surprised to see the other woman hadn’t moved from her spot nor followed her lead. If anything, it looked like Marianne had taken a step back. She was standing perfectly still, with her hands shoved deep in the front pockets of her pants, and staring at Héloïse with a sparkling wonder in her eyes.

“Something wrong?”

Prompted by Héloïse’s question, Marianne smiled, she looked more amused than genuinely embarrassed, “Héloïse, I…” she hesitated, “I don’t know how to swim.”

Héloïse looked a little surprised, she had a small frown on her face, but as she walked toward Marianne it turned into a gentle smile. “Do you want me to teach you? I can repay you for teaching me how to drive.”

In the time it took her to answer, what Marianne had really been thinking about was if there could possibly be anything Héloïse could have asked her at that moment that she would have denied. “Yes,” she said finally.

Héloïse had waited patiently, but as soon as she heard Marianne’s answer and watched her nod, she immediately moved her hand to the hem of her sweater.

After Héloïse painfully slowly removed her clothes (which made Marianne hope that the water would be cold) and also promised her that she’d swim a thousand times in that place and it was safe and comfortable, Marianne followed her right into the water.

“So, you know absolutely nothing about swimming?” Héloïse asked her when she was one step away from not being able to stand on anything.

Marianne shrugged noncommittally, “I suppose in case of an emergency I wouldn’t drown immediately but…” another shrug.

“Let’s start like this,” Héloïse said, holding out her hands for Marianne, “You’ll need to hold on to me.”

And that’s how it started. The two of them, wearing only their underwear, going deeper into the water, slowly but steady. Marianne held on tightly to Héloïse, every now and then a nervous laugh escaped her lips and she called Héloïse’s name and nothing else, implicitly asking her to be careful, to hold her steady, to never let go. Héloïse _knew _, right away she knew exactly what Marianne was asking from her. She held her just as tightly, securely in her arms, making the brunette feel safer in Héloïse’s arms than she does in her own two feet.__

__After each one of them had gone underwater a couple of times and Marianne had grown comfortable enough, wrapping her legs around Héloïse’s waist and loosely wrapping her arms around her shoulders, it was inevitable that their lips found each other. They kissed each other long and slowly, taking their time, savoring each touch and caress of lips and tongue, pulling back to delight in the pleasure of meeting the other one’s eyes, just to dive back into each other._ _

__At some point, Héloïse pulled back and leaving one of her arms safely wrapped around Marianne’s waist, she moved her other hand to push back Marianne’s short hair. She wondered at the sight. While she usually loved to see the messy strands of hair and run her hands through it and feel how soft it was, seeing it wet and slicked back like this was a whole different experience._ _

__“Do you think you can float?” Héloïse asked._ _

__“Possibly.”_ _

__It turned out it was a decent enough success. A minute later Marianne was floating on her back, trying to relax and feeling nerves creep in._ _

__“Relax, Marianne, I got you,” Héloïse whispered._ _

__She meant it in more ways that one. For the moment, it was mostly about her hand lingering underneath Marianne’s back, pushing her upward just slightly, just making it easier for her. With her other hand unoccupied, and with Marianne’s face just so close like that, Héloïse couldn’t help herself. As delicately as possible, with just her fingertips she started tracing the lines of Marianne’s face. Her jaw and chin, the curve of her lips, the tip of her nose and the slope of her cheeks, down the path of her eyebrow and back to where she started, just to move her hand to the back of Marianne’s head. She needed it there, needed to support her, to hold her steady, it was the least she could do, because other than that she wasn’t strong enough, she just wasn’t strong enough to not kiss her at that moment. Even though right then she felt the first raindrops hitting her back and making tiny splashes on the water._ _

__

__

__Not too long later, Marianne and Héloïse walked back into the house. They were soaking from the rain and almost drowning in their laughs._ _

__“I’m so sorry about your car,” Héloïse managed to look apologetic about the wet interior of the car, even though she continued to laugh._ _

__“At least you didn’t crash it!”_ _

__Marianne drove the way back and they had to put their clothes back on despite being still wet. As they walked into the house they were still relishing in the most precious emotions they’d felt for as long as they could remember. It was all so bright in their hearts, warm and electric, comfortable and sweet, it was absolute pleasure. That delicious haze continued for a while. They showered, they put on dry and comfortable clothes that perhaps were each other’s, and they went down to the kitchen, where they found Sophie._ _

__The younger girl was happy to see them, clearly, but there was something else in her eyes. She hesitated, she didn’t want to burst their bubble, but she figured the kindest choice would be to warn them._ _

__“Héloïse,” she started, “your mom called me, said you weren’t picking up the phone.”_ _

__It was true. Héloïse had ignored the thing the entire day in favor of giving her entire attention to the beautiful brunette standing right beside her. It had been completely worth it. But now it was inevitable to feel a chill move through her body, her intuition telling her to expect the worse, and one look at Marianne letting her know that she wasn’t alone, but they were both scared. Sophie didn’t look any better._ _

__“What did she want?” Héloïse asked, attempting nonchalance._ _

__But Sophie stayed quiet for a long moment, she avoided Héloïse’s eyes even as she said, “You won’t like it.”_ _

__“ _Sophie_ , please,” Héloïse insisted, surprising herself by the tremor in her voice._ _

__“She’s coming home tomorrow afternoon. The photographer is coming with her.” Sophie couldn't bring herself to say his name._ _

__Héloïse’s expression immediately shifted into one Marianne hadn’t seen in a long time. She looked almost as if Sophie had just insulted, and badly. She nodded in acknowledgment but that was it. An instant later she had walked away, leaving Marianne to wonder if she should follow._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> personally i barely know how to swim, and i've never swim in a river kind of thin, i'm not sure what i'm doing but i hope it was good!  
> i hope you guys like the fluff and i'm sorry for the angst at the end. it's gonna get worse lol sorry but it'll be worth it! we have to go through this. trust me please
> 
> anyway thank you so much everyone for reading and leaving comments. they seriously make my day!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I'm sorry.
> 
> Also, a heads up, this chapter picks up immediately after the last one, in case everyone needs to check the last scene to remember where we're at

For a moment, Marianne didn’t react. She stood still, staring at the floor and hearing Héloïse walk away. However, then she heard Héloïse’s footsteps picking up speed. She was running away then. This time, Marianne knew in her heart she couldn’t let her leave, she couldn’t leave her alone, not right now. She took off, chasing upstairs after Héloïse, following the sound of her footsteps. When she reached the last floor, she looked around and didn’t see Héloïse anywhere. She was about to start checking the different rooms when the sound of footsteps caught her attention. She quickly closed her eyes and tried to determine where they were coming from. From above her head? Marianne desperately looked around again and finally spotted a door she hadn’t seen before. She approached it and found a set of stairs… they must lead to the roof of the house.

Marianne ran up the stairs as fast as she could. She stopped hearing Héloïse’s footsteps and her own heart skipped a beat, until she made it to the top and came to a screeching halt. Héloïse was standing right at the edge of the rooftop, her entire body shaking with her erratic breathing, just as Marianne.

Héloïse heard her arrive, and when she turned around and met Marrriane’s eyes, the brunette was so struck that she had to hold on to the doorframe for fear of falling back down the stairs. The look in Héloïse’s face could leave the strongest person on Earth speechless and shaking on their feet. The emotions swirling in those gorgeous green eyes were enrapturing and terrifying like angry ocean waters during a storm. But they pulled Marianne closer and closer.

“Is this where you run away to?” Marianne asked, her voice unsteady.

Héloïse shook her head, “This was my sister’s spot. And this is where she jumped.” She shrugged helplessly, vaguely gesturing around her. She fully turned around to face Marianne. “I used to be furious. I kept asking myself why did she have to do it. Why couldn’t I save her. When did she felt this was her only option.” Héloïse stifled a sob and roughly wiped a tear away from her face. “Now I’m standing here… And I’m starting to understand her. And that feels just so much fucking _worse_ … And now I’m just so sad.”

At that point, Héloïse openly started crying. In the same instant she turned her back to Marianne, the other woman moved toward her in a couple of quick steps and then crashed against her, wrapping her tightly in her arms, and both of them were caught trembling together.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Marianne mumbled, again and again, feeling her own tears streaming down her face. She placed a series of gentle kisses on the back of Héloïse’s neck and shoulders. These were much different from their passionate kisses. She was trying to put her back together.

They stayed together like that for a while. Marianne with her arms wrapped tightly around Héloïse’s, and Héloïse’s hands firmly holding on to that pair of arms, as tightly as she could, sometimes so tightly her nails would dig into Marianne’s skin, but they didn’t mind, they needed that physical reassurance of each other’s presence. They stayed like that until they started to calm down, at which point, Marianne started softly talking with her chin resting on Héloïse’s shoulder.

“It’ll be okay, you know?” she started, “You’ll be fine. It’ll probably be good. You will… travel a lot. You’ll see the whole world, meet the most interesting of people, get rich,” she attempted a chuckle and lastly added, “Have you ever heard Milan is a city of music?”

Héloïse did relax considerably in Marianne’s arms, letting her head fall back on Marianne’s shoulder as the other woman pressed feather-light kisses everywhere she could reach. But eventually, Héloïse’s chuckled. The sound wasn’t as precious and didn’t sound much happy at all. 

“You’re giving up then, huh?” Héloïse said.

Marianne pulled back, “What do you mean?” she asked, her arms suddenly losing their strength, letting Héloïse’s easily step away.

Their physical separation left them with a rush of a cold breeze between them, it felt like a cut, a first and superficial cut that was nothing but a bad omen of worse things to come. Héloïse took two steps away from Marianne and while she made sense of her thoughts she kept her back to her. She looked tense, bracing herself for impact.

“It’s the first time you try to say something nice about Milan,” Héloïse finally turns to face Marianne, making a part of her wish she wouldn’t have, because the emotions in her eyes were most definitely too much to take. She explained herself, “If you’re trying to make me feel better about my future, it must be because you’ve accepted it as it is.”

Marianne’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She looked down, then looked away to her right at the green hills beyond the house, anywhere but at the woman in front of her. Finally, she shrugged, “What else could I do now? You’ve clearly made up your mind… since the beginning.” The moment she said the words, with that slight passive-aggressive tilt in the tone of her voice that she used without meaning to, she immediately regrets them. She could practically see Héloïse’s temper rising up.

Héloïse, in fact, could really feel her rage igniting once more. She tried to hold it in. She tried to hold herself back, not ask for what she wanted, not demand to hear what she needed, not accuse and not break down, but… She made a quick gesture with her arms and stared back at Marianne with a deep frown.

“But I can see you judging me! Judging my choices. You think I’m really selling myself, giving up, losing my principles and my dreams and all I am just for… for what? For money? Potential fame? Or I don’t know, perhaps hoping I can go there and put up the fight that my sister didn’t get the chance to? Because, fuck, Marianne you have no idea of all the fighting I put up before I reached this point. I thought at the very least I’d have your support!”

“I just want you to be happy!” Marianne argued, her voice as steel.

“To be happy? Or to be _yours_?” Héloïse retorted without missing a beat, “Because if what you want is to keep a hold of me then you’re no different than he is.” The words were now making deeper cuts, the ones that don’t heal so easily, and they both knew it. When Marianne’s silence stretched too long, Héloïse added in a softer voice, “Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe Milan could be my only chance at being happy?” She saw Marianne immediately shake her head negatively.

“I shouldn’t be.”

“Are you offering me something else?” Héloïse asked. She feared that a sliver of hope had shown in her voice. But if it did, Marianne did nothing with it, she stayed quiet. Her silence devastated and angered Heloise, who stomped her feet on the ground and cursed, adding, “Can you answer me?!”

“No!”

How could Marianne’s voice sound at once so resolute and so unsteady. Héloïse couldn’t know what was going through Marianne’s head at that moment. But she knew that she needed a clarification on what question exactly Marianne said no to. She knew, just as well, that although the question was on the tip of her tongue, she couldn’t ask. She gulped, and in the blink of an eye, they were back to the beginning, to the impenetrable walls behind Héloïse’s eyes.

“You should leave before my mom arrives tomorrow,” was the last thing she said before walking away, leaving Marianne behind, shaking and no longer holding back her tears.

Marianne was halfway done packing her things that night when she decided to give up and finish in the morning. She didn’t have the physical or emotional strength to keep going. Done with that subject, it was just a matter of deciding what to do next. Her bed was right there, she could try to go to sleep and wake up early and get this done with. However, Héloïse’s bedroom door was also _right there_ on the other side of the hall. She could knock, she could ask, she could confess, she could do many things, but she wasn’t sure that was her best bet. Deciding that she could use a visit to the kitchen and remembering that there was another very special woman under that roof, Marianne walked down the stairs.

Sophie looked sad to hear Marianne would be leaving the next morning, but she didn’t seem surprised. In any way, she was happy to share a small goodbye dinner with her. Sophie was overly kind and fun throughout the dinner, and Marianne couldn’t help but assume that the younger woman had put two and two together and was trying to make up for the obvious fact that Héloïse wouldn’t be joining them.

“You could always knock on her door though,” Sophie shrugged when they were pretty much done with their dinner and she might as well address the elephant in the door.

“I don’t see a closed door as an invitation to knock, Sophie,” Marianne replied.

“But you can’t just…” Sophie, for a second, look fired up and ready to say something, but she deflated with a hopeless sigh and instead said, “Look, for what its worth, I loved meeting you and having you here, and I won’t forget what you did for me, you were _so_ nice.”

The comment made Marianne genuinely smile, despite the emotional battle she continued to hold within herself. She decided against teasing Sophie for blushing, and instead thanked her, “These days wouldn’t have been the same without you, Sophie. Thank you.”

Their conversation went on for a short while longer until finally, they parted ways. Marianne walked up the stairs slowly, still debating if she should knock on Héloïse’s door or not. Whether she reached a resolution or not, that was meaningless, for when she reached the last few steps, her eyes caught sight of Héloïse herself, standing by a window and staring right at Marianne’s own closed door.

Their eyes met and Marianne was felt frozen right in her place. Could it be possible that Héloïse had been thinking the exact same thing, going through an identical internal debate as she was this entire time? The mere thought of it, feeling so connected again to Héloïse after one awful conversation made her feel suddenly off-balance. But it did fill Marianne with the strength to decidedly walk up the final steps and meet Héloïse in the middle of the hallway, where they threw their arms around each other and held on tightly, burying their heads in the other one’s neck. Their breathing and their heartbeats matching one another, their hands grabbing on to the fabric of their clothes as if their lives depended on it.

Silently, they walked to Héloïse’s bedroom. A silent agreement was made that words could wait for the morning. For now, all the questions, promises and reassurances were made with lips and fingers, meeting each other, touching warm skin, traveling down their bodies and making each other feel gloriously high. The only problem with feeling like they were at the top of the connection they had, exploding in a million colorful lights, was the knowledge that after the explosion only ashes and broken pieces would come down scattered around without bearing any resemblance to the precious glory of what used to be. Or so they thought. Or, at least, it was one of the last grim thoughts they had before deciding to give up thinking altogether for that night and concentrate only on feeling, and making the night last forever as long as they continued to hold on to each other in bed.

In the morning, after she packed her bag and said goodbye to Sophie, Marianne hesitated at the bottom steps of the stairs of the house. Everything was too quiet and it sent chills through her body. She was staring right at the open front door of the house. Héloïse was standing there, leaning against the door frame. She wasn’t even staring back at Marianne, she was looking the other way, at the outside. Still, Marianne already felt the moment was heavily charged with powerful electricity, way more than necessary, but she didn’t expect any less from Héloïse. She had to admit to herself, even now, she loved the intensity that Héloïse brought with her everywhere she went.

Marianne walked to the door, stopping only a couple of steps before she reached it and softly asked, “What are you thinking over there?”

Her voice made Héloïse turn her head to glance at her, giving her a look that was already so nostalgic, a sad smile tugging at her lips. She extended her arm in Marianne’s direction. And the other woman didn’t hesitate to take her hand, joining Héloïse by the doorway.

“What am I thinking?” Héloïse wondered out loud, “I’m wondering if everyone in a relationship feels like they’re inventing love for the first and last time at once.”

Her words immediately took Marianne’s breath away. She squeezed Héloïse’s hand still interlocked with hers and thought for a moment. There were many ways this could go. Because Héloïse said the words “relationship,” and “love” and they had never actually said those words to each other before but instead they were standing there with the word “goodbye” on the tip of their tongues and everything felt so wrong and…

“I know I do,” Marianne replied confidently.

She knew in her heart that words weren’t enough to fit what Héloïse and her shared. She knew that they had something beautiful, timeless, complicated and without a shadow of a doubt the single greatest feeling she had experienced this far in life.

Marianne tugged a little on Héloïse’s hand to get her to look at her. Now they were both with their backs leaning on each side of the door frame, staring at each other. But when Héloïse opened her mouth to say goodbye, Marianne interrupted her.

“Don’t,” she requested, “Please don’t say goodbye.” She bit her bottom lip and stared at her favorite pair of eyes in the whole world, at the confusion and apprehension in them. “I’ll see you in a day or two at the dorm. We’ll enjoy our last weeks in college, we’ll love each other completely and after we graduate… we’re going to be okay.”

The sight of Héloïse’s smile was worth the pain that walking away from her would cause, and that realization was enough to break Marianne down. Fortunately, she didn’t have time to dwell on it, because an instant later Héloïse was kissing her, and once again rational thoughts were shoved to the back of her mind. They kissed unhurriedly, putting everything they had in that kiss, trying to make it last forever and determined not to pull away until some level of perfection was achieved.

Inevitably, they had to pull back at some point. Marianne picked up her bag and started walking away quickly, her car keys already in hand. If she couldn’t stay then the next best option was to get away as fast as possible without looking back. But when had things go according to plan for her whenever Héloïse was concerned?

“Marianne!” Héloïse called after her, and Marianne couldn’t help it, she knew she wasn’t strong enough to save herself from the heartache of indulging on one last look. Their eyes met again and all Héloïse said was “ _Goodbye_.”

In summary, Marianne was having an awful time being apart from Héloïse. That first day she arrived at her dorm and she found it so void of life and depressing without her roommate that she went straight to bed without even unpacking. The next day wasn’t much better either. She woke up to a sweet but brief text from Heloise, but the blonde didn’t pick up or return any of her calls during the day, which left Marianne in a bad mood that didn’t even ease enough for her to attempt to paint something at all. The day after that she begrudgingly went back to her classes and the day dragged on and on. Héloïse should have arrived, she should have been there already, they should have gone to sleep in the same room again, hopefully in the same bed, at the very least they _should_ have talked once. But other than a goodnight text, there weren’t any signs of Héloïse.

The next day was the worst one. Marianne felt she was losing her mind, felt she had lost her heart, felt she had been stabbed and the dagger was stuck in her, hurting her every time she so much as took a breath, and the dagger was named Héloïse. At her last class, Marianne had to leave early, she couldn’t even stand to imagine walking out of it and not meeting Héloïse in their usual routine. Halfway through her walk back to the dorm, she stopped abruptly, struck by the thought that maybe Héloïse had arrived after all while she was in class, and would be waiting for her at the right time and place and everything would be alright again. Standing still in the middle of the sidewalk Marianne rubbed her forehead with one hand and sighed. This time she had to, she had to be strong enough and keep walking forward, because turning around just for Héloïse not to be there it would mean a heartbreak too big to bear.

Feeling exhausted after the short walk to the dorm building, Marianne stopped before arriving and looked up. It made sense, of course. How didn’t she figure it out earlier? The roof. The roof of the building had to be the place Héloïse ran away whenever she was uncomfortable. It had happened so ofter when they first met, and Marianne was suddenly certain that every time that’s where Héloïse had been. Reenergized and simultaneously dreading going there, Marianne basically ran up the stairs and through the door that students probably weren’t supposed to walk through but that was unexplainably unlocked.

Being up there, looking down at the campus around her was a strange feeling, almost as strange at the absolute certainty she had that Héloïse had been there countless times before. She could almost feel her there with her. As she started walking around, avoiding pieces of trash and wires and broken boxes, Marianne’s phone rang. It was Héloïse.

“Hello?”

“Marianne…”

“Héloïse, are you okay?” 

There was a beat of silence and hesitation on the other line. “I’m so sorry I didn’t call. I’m so sorry, I… I have to say… I miss you so much it hurts me, it’s killing me, its… I’m so sorry.”

“I’m dying for you over here too,” Marianne whispered. She had stopped walking. She came across an upsidedown crate on the ground that had a piece of paper sticking out from underneath, she poked at it with her foot and things rattled inside. “Please tell me what’s going on. Please talk to me, Héloïse.”

“It’s terrible,” Héloïse said.

There was another moment of silence. Somewhere far away from their shared room, Héloïse was gathering the strength to say it all before she broke down and gave up altogether. Meanwhile, Marianne kneeled on the roof of the building, and started looking over the small group of things that apparently Héloïse liked to keep on a hiding place on the roof. There were cigarettes, there were books, notebooks, and while Marianne took a look without prying too much, she heard Héloïse’s explanation.

“My mother, she has this talent for picking up my entire life in her hands, putting it all in a box, wrap it up and sell it to the best contender… I’m traveling to _Milan_ tomorrow, Marianne. They have everything arranged. You know I was practically done with my classes. I called my professors and I just have to send a few last projects and show up for graduation.”

“You’re not coming home?” Marianne blurted out. She didn’t get an answer, so she asked in the steadiest voice she could manage, “Will I ever see you again?”

“Of course,” Héloïse replied, her voice broke halfway through, but she sounded certain. “I just can’t stop thinking of the time I wasted.”

“I wasted a lot of time too… I regret so much.”

“Don’t do that,” Héloïse interrupted her, “I don’t regret a single minute I got to spend with you. I’ll _remember_ every moment.”

After a long pause, “I love you,” Marianne said, at last, this time her voice shook too much, but she cleared her throat and repeated herself, “I love you, Héloïse. I didn’t get to tell you in person, but…”

“I love you so much,” Héloïse said.

In her hand, Marianne had been holding a piece of paper, one of the first drawings she had made of Héloïse sleeping face, of the ones the blonde despised at first. She had started to crumble the paper in her hand so she forced herself to let go. They were silent on the phone, only hearing each other breathe and quietly cry. With one hand Marianne retrieved her wallet and from it, she took out a single page of a book she had folded and tucked in there weeks ago. She unfolded it, stared at the delicate flower Héloïse had made on the page twenty-eight of a book. Marianne left both drawings together along with the rest of Héloïse’s thing safely tucked under the box, and then she ended the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defense, I made this a little longer than the other chapters so I put as much of the unhappy parts in as few chapters as possible so we can get over that faster lmao  
> Still, thank you so much everyone for reading! I hope you liked it and I'd love to hear what you think!  
> I hope everyone is doing okay during these difficult times for the world   
> As always, you can find me on tumblr @afterlaughy if anyone wants to talk


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning! sad chapter ahead!
> 
> a few other things i want to say about this chapter.  
> it is a bit different than most chapter i've written before. at first i wanted to make this painful bit a bit shorter and just make it part of the last chapter. but then i realized i didn't exctly warn you guys that there's basically only one chapter left after this one? that seems so wrong?? don't worry, I have a pretty sweet epilogue planned that with a little encouragement i can definitely make it into a two chapters thing. the thing is, i reallyyyy don't feel ready to let go of this story? i'm emotionally attached! so i'm trying to stretch this out as long as possible lol i even finished this chapter and debated whether i should post it right away or not lol but! i couldn't help myself! so here it is  
> lastly, if some things here feel rushed, time passing too fast, or the modeling industry unrealistic, please bear with me i''m trying my best lmao this is fiction let's use our imagination

Marianne and Héloïse saw each other again many times after they said goodbye. Life has a funny albeit cruel habit of reminding you, as often as possible, of what you lost. The first week or so, it was their fault. They called each other constantly, at every chance they got. They talked for hours, or just a minute when they needed to hear each other’s voices. There were many pictures and videos sent back and forth. Many times a day their phones would light up with each other’s faces and they’d talk and talk, overjoyed with a chance to see each other even through a small screen. It was worth it, they thought, the delight of the other one’s company in exchange for the sorrow of ending the call and finding themselves overwhelmed by loneliness and heartache.

Marianne told Héloïse everything about how life went on on campus, how she made it through her last classes and how much she missed her in their room. When Marianne came out of her last class of the day and she was inevitably hit by heartbreak when Héloïse wasn’t there to greet her, she called her. Usually, Héloïse could pick up, and she talked to Marianne the whole time until she safely made it back to her room, as if she were right beside her. 

Héloïse talked a lot about Milan. It was undeniably beautiful and everywhere she looked there was something interesting that made every day exciting for her. Plus, it was, in fact, a city of music. Héloïse was delighted to attend concerts at every chance she got, never getting tired of it. However, she noticeably avoided speaking of her mother, the photographer, and what she was working on over there. Marianne had to practically pry the answers out of Héloïse, one by one, which proved to be getting harder each time and as much as it pained her, seeing Héloïse getting closed off more and more the more she tried to get answers.

As far as Marianne got to hear, Héloïse’s mother was… one or two words that Marianne preferred not to say. She really tried not to hold a grudge on the woman, she tired. But according to Héloïse, her mother had lived in Milan about twenty years ago, couldn’t wait to go back and once she did she was easily swept away by old friends and acquaintances, and left Héloïse to her own devices. At the very least, she seemed to be around during the many photoshoots, because well, she wasn’t a completely heartless monster. About the photoshoots, “I’d really prefer not to talk about it, Marianne,” was Héloïse’s go-to answer. All Marianne knew was the Héloïse was expected to be very still and very silent and that, to Héloïse’s disappointment, her intense, angry and getting angrier stare was actually appreciated in the fashion industry.

Lastly, about the damned photographer, Marianne was surprised to hear Héloïse talk about him more than about the other two subjects. Marianne guessed it was Héloïse’s way of easing her worries. He wasn’t that bad after all. Creepy? Yes, but it seemed to be just one of his natural traits and not something completely exclusive for Héloïse. The fact that he consistently tried to make advances at her was undeniable. But it was still too soon. He made sure no one else knew about it. The good thing was that Héloïse was right, he only wanted a model he could call wife. He was more focused on the model part of the deal, and as long as Héloïse was a decent enough model his attention would easily fly elsewhere and he didn’t end up paying that much attention to her anyway.

Things started to change though, because of course they did. At least they’d have in their respective conscience that it wasn’t the fault of just one of them. The change happened organically and from both ends at once. Marianne and Héloïse started to realize that seeing each other hurt more than not. Seeing their pictures and names everywhere. Marianne posing with her art during finals, Héloïse’s photoshoots, both promoted on social media. It hurt to look and it hurt to try to stay away. 

Toward the second week of their separation, Marianne found it increasingly difficult to gather the courage to call Héloïse. There were many reasons. She hated hearing that Héloïse was unhappy with so many things over there. But she also felt a kick of an ugly, ugly emotion whenever she heard Héloïse happy, excited, distracted about something that Milan gave her that Marianne couldn’t. The worst part was ending the call and regardless of what Héloïse was up to in Milan, Marianne was still there, in the same room, in the same building, feeling worse and worse each day instead of better. Of course that fears and insecurities played a part too, Marianne didn’t want to interrupt Héloïse at work, or doing anything else of importance. How easily she forgot the way they used to be the center of each other’s worlds when they were together.

On Héloïse’s side of things, it all went downhill in a similar way. She liked to hear Marianne missed her, because she missed her just as much, but she hated the idea of calling and being nothing but a sad reminder to Marianne, just appearing on her phone screen to dampen her day. She liked to hear about Marianne’s day and the life on campus that she missed dearly. She liked that, until the lines started to blur and the joy wasn’t enough to obscure the pain and grief she felt for all she lost. It was self-preservation, she told herself, she was only avoiding herself and Marianne more heartache every time she declined Marianne’s calls.

She missed her voice, obviously. She missed Marianne’s warm, sweet but passionate eyes, her jaw and the slope of her neck, the furrow of her brow when she was concentrated and the smile that made her feel more alive than anything else in the world. She missed Marianne’s messy hair in the mornings, Marianne’s lips on hers and Marianne’s hands on her body. A phone call wouldn’t give her Marianne back. It was easier to keep her distance then.

Time dragged on and on. It was impressive though, the way that, at the end of the day, Marianne and Héloïse had to pick up the pieces of their hearts and learn how to make something with them. Marianne’s professors sure as hell would’ve had a field day if they got all together to analyze her work just to discover a pretty obvious timeline of a breakup. She showed very distinctly in her art, unconsciously, all stages of her grief. She stubbornly tried to keep her old joy and the flame of her love alive in cheerful portraits of Héloïse she made on memory alone. She had the pictures for inspiration, but none of them were fair to the real thing. Next up were the sad, elusive, genuinely depressing scenes of her own heartbreak and her memory of Héloïse. Then, just as she started to avoid calling Héloïse, she tried to avoid painting her. The results weren’t very good, nothing came out very well for her lately.

She had lost her muse, the one who inspired her heart and essentially guided her hand at the moment of creating art. Héloïse herself was the art, as a co-creator, not as a finished product. This understanding of the process of creating art brought a significant relief to Marianne’s heart. That’s how she ended up, at the end of the semester, creating a self-portrait. When she turned it in, her professor told her she’d made herself look sad. Marianne surprised herself when she replied, without much hesitation, that she wasn’t sad anymore. She only had to get through her final project and then graduation.

For Héloïse, the change came simultaneously aggressively and without her noticing. She made something out of her rage for the first time in her life, and in the process, she refused to forget about Marianne. All she had learned, the experiences she treasured, those were lessons and strengths and precious she’d remember for as long as she was alive. 

She hadn’t been lying when she told Marianne she planned to put on a fight. Her power came from the simple fact that everyone in Milan excessively underestimated her. She was bold and brave in ways that left people unsettled and yielding to her requests. She put on the nice dresses and fancy suits, she stood up in balconies and sat down in stools and photographers, stylists and producers were generally happy with her. But that’s when both parties started to test each other’s limits.

When they asked too much of her, with a simple look, Héloïse could make every professional insecure of their decisions. When they asked about her sister, Héloïse wasn’t afraid to say the industry had killed her, and feeling mortified they tried and failed to silence her. With other models. Héloïse stood her ground and simultaneously smiled at them with small, conspiratory smirks, and before she knew it she had more friends than she’d had in her entire life. Héloïse moved with a certain confidence and courageous grace, that she had the photographers chasing after her, struggling to catch up and capture her in movement rather spitting orders her way. It was a small pleasure when some of them categorized as difficult to work with, but in truth, the larger part was excited to collaborate with her, particularly the female photographers that she went out of her way to work with. Before she knew it, boosted by the story of her sister and the fact that she started out by working with one of the most popular photographers of the moment, Héloïse had made a name for herself, it was enough so that she went on her first interview as well.

She imagined that Marianne would be particularly proud of her, if they were still talking regularly. She’d say something along the lines of “Only you’d dare do that,” and with a slightly different tone she’d say “This passion you have, I adore that about you, Héloïse,” and Héloïse would feel fulfilled and ready to fall in Marianne’s arms. But that didn’t happen though. There was a physical and emotional distance between them now. There remained only a single thread connecting them. It was called love, and both ends were deeply engraved in each of their hearts, so much so that every time they breathed, if they concentrated enough, they could feel their hearts beat as one, even after days of silence, even after the first day they went without thinking of each other. Still, at night, there was a small pain in their chests, and they just knew, they knew that thread would always be there, connecting them, and hopefully, leading them back to each other.

Marianne saw Héloïse one last time before graduation. She went to the store, casually and unassuming, when something caught her eye among the dozen of magazines on display. It was her favorite pair of eyes, and the slightly judgemental frown that somehow stole her heart from the very first day. Héloïse was on the cover of a magazine, an interview with her included in its pages. Marianne stood still, simply staring at Héloïse’s picture for what felt like forever. A knot formed in her throat because she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t have explained the way her heart ached, felt like it was breaking, but it brought a smile to her lips. She would always love that face that stared at her from the magazine, no matter what, or how much time passed.

Marianne was delighted in the knowledge that suddenly came to her. For a moment she was upset by the idea that Héloïse might have hated posing for that picture, posing for a stranger, having her face sold to millions of people that didn’t know her. But that was the thing, none of them knew Héloïse, and in fact probably wouldn’t ever get the chance to know her, let alone own her. They could take their picture and buy the magazines, but still, none of them would ever own Héloïse, there was something they could never ever steal from her. Not even Marianne, she knew, would get to completely get ahold of Héloïse. As it should be, she told herself with a proud smile. She got out her phone and took a picture of the magazine, not thinking twice about it and sending it to Héloïse. “Proud of you, superstar.” Later that day, Héloïse would reply, “See you in a few days.”

Again defenseless when facing Héloïse’s image and disregarding her previous resolve and coping mechanisms, Marianne picked up the magazine. She flipped the pages until she found Héloïse’s interview. Page 28. She ended up buying the damned thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you soooo much everyone for reading and leaving comments!  
> this was an emotional one. i'm no expert on love but this is my perspective on what that could happen to Marianne and Heloise on the present day  
> hopefully it ends on a slightly brighter note than last chapter  
> the next one is a big one, it Might be the last chapter. but i swear there's an epilogue that i will put my whole heart into  
> as always, you can find me on tumblr @afterlaughy and you're welcome to go scream at me/talk about the movie lol


	13. Final Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all i'm sorry this took so long. on one hand i admit i just didn't want to write it bc it'd mean this is almost over and i dont want that :( and once i finally finished writing well i was overthiking everything and rewriting a lot until i was happy with it. so i hope you guys like it! i just put my whole entire heart on this, so sorry if it's messy or redundant at times.
> 
> this is for everyone at the p. 28 discord
> 
> here we goooo

The day finally arrived. Héloïse was impressed by a couple of things regarding her graduation. On one hand, the annoying amount of paperwork that had to be done, along with the endless, mostly meaningless conversations with professors and peers. Most people had heard about her new profession in Milan, and they had lots of questions. To her delight, her favorite professors weren't ready to give up on her. Nothing official, of course, but Héloïse was offered a handful of opportunities, recommended to message a group of people, reminded that music was her passion and it was out there for her to pursue, if she only wanted to. Another surprising thing for Héloïse was how ridiculously difficult was to cross paths with Marianne. They used to be roommates, for fucks sake! And still, most of the events went by and Héloïse hadn't had a chance to talk to the woman occupying her mind more than anything else that day. Every time she caught sight of a tall woman with short dark hair her heart skipped a beat. It was never Marianne. Perhaps a dozen of times during the day Héloïse had been sure she locked eyes with Marianne, but after blinking she was gone, they were lost in the crowds.

Héloïse was growing impatient. Everywhere she turned there was somebody wanting something from her. All she wanted was to run away, to barge into her old room and… well, she was confident that when she’d finally found herself alone in a room with Marianne she'd know what to do. However, she kept running into classmate after classmate, dragged into the duty of talking with professor after professor. And as if things couldn't be worse, her own mother and the "guy with the camera", as she had started to call him, kept trailing after her everywhere she went. It went on and on. Héloïse irritation grew until she was sure her frown had turn into a full-on scowl that not even the guy with the camera could try to pass as a sexy modeling look.

Eventually, however, Héloïse's mother was sensible enough to recognize her daughter's anger. At a parking lot of the campus, Héloïse parted ways with her company. At least physically, Héloïse thought, because whenever her mother or the guy with the camera left her alone they always left her with a promise, a responsibility, or a threat, depending on who you asked. This time, Héloïse’s mother agreed to leave her alone for the rest of the afternoon as long as Héloïse would promise to get a taxi that would take her to their old house before it got too dark. The photographer wanted to make a photoshoot of mother and daugther in their home, or an excuse to check the propriety by himself and decide if he was interested. That would probably take place the next day, but of course her mother wanted them to have dinner together, and she demanded Héloïse’s presence.

Héloïse wasn’t sure when they’d go back to Milan, but she imagined it would be soon, a few days at most. Part of her thought that surely she’d get to see more of Marianne in those days. A different part of her wasn’t sure she’d want that, or if Marianne would want that. It all depended on how this day would go. And so, Héloïse promised her mother she’d be in their house on time for dinner. But, of course, she wasn’t absolutely certain she’d keep that promise. Héloïse could feel in her heart that, no matter the outcome, if life had granted her one more day with Marianne, well, she wouldn’t be the one to put a premature end on it.

At last, Héloïse was alone. She took a deep breath that almost turned into a gasp at the realization. It had been a while. She looked down at her feet and for a moment debated not going straight to her old dorm room. She couldn’t fool herself though. In that moment all she wanted was to see Marianne. Even if she had no idea what their encounter would bring. Her heart rattled in her chest as she started walking in the familiar direction. Would they immediately jump into each other’s arms at the first sight of one another, wasted time forgotten? She doubted it. A spark of shyness and insecurity sparked in her chest, and at once she rejected it. She couldn’t be timid around Marianne, that would be nonsense after all. So, she started walking faster. The questions kept coming. Would they be merely civil with each other? Hold each other at an arm’s length, reminisce of old days just to part ways again, this time definitely? That seemed quite unlikely as well. Héloïse couldn’t imagine a world where being in the same room with Marianne didn’t feel like the collision of two stars in outer space. She couldn’t picture her heart keeping an unaffected beat and her eyes not betraying her deepest thoughts, the most passionate and tender ones. She shuddered at the concept of small talk with Marianne, and at once knew she’d be incapable of keeping such facade and was comforted by the firm belief that Marianne wouldn’t expect or attempt such a lifeless interaction with her.

One more scenario came to Héloïse’s mind, and it was downhill from there. What if Marianne was angry at her for leaving? What if Marianne wasn’t even in the room? Worse, what if Marianne wasn’t alone there? The idea of meeting relatives and having to ask for a moment alone wasn’t appealing, but the mere thought of another woman being in there with Marianne had Héloïse nearly running the last steps to the building and up the stairs. It was their room, and even if their love hadn’t finally bloomed in there, Héloïse couldn’t picture a most sacred or intimate space that best represented their relationship like that room. Héloïse couldn’t deny the one or two women she’d met on Milan, but they couldn’t compare to the woman that was right there, on the other side of the door to the _room 28._

Héloïse hesitated in front of the familiar door in a way that she had never done before. She considered not thinking about it and barging in, she considered knocking, she even thought of running away the way she came from. Placing both hands in her waist she gathered her courage and before stepping in she glanced at her right down the hallway. This was just the way she arrived that first day, Marianne trailing after her. Héloïse looked at the hallway and pictured the two of them, unknowing, unprepared, but somehow ready as if meant for eachother. She smiled and reached for the doorknob.

The room was empty. Héloïse felt her heart come to a screeching halt and then pick up in speed right where it left off. Marianne wasn’t there. Instead, Héloïse found herself facing her reflection. More accurately, there was a portrait of herself waiting for her. This time, she did gasp. Héloïse fully walked into the room and closed the door behind her, then slowly approached the portrait. In the portrait, Héloïse was sitting upright, wearing what looked to be an old-timey green dress and her eyes were so alive it was like seeing anger melt into passion in one fluid movement in the canvas, all with the extra layer of complexity given by the barely noticeable affectionate tilt of the corner of her lips. About the portrait, its style, everything about it looked… classic, from ages ago, beautiful and professional and Héloïse hoped Marianne graduated with honors for it.

What troubled Héloïse the most was that for some reason the portrait didn’t feel completely unfamiliar. She had never worn that green dress and she knew she hadn’t posed for this, but upon a closer examination of the portrait, Héloïse had to bite her lip to keep herself grounded and not taken away by the onslaught of emotions. She had seen this portrait before, a version of it, at least. It was the exact same face she’d seen on the apparently unfinished product of that first time she willingly posed for Marianne. It was that one, now turned into something greater, enhanced by time and experiences, new knowledge and feelings and the best part, Héloïse just decided, was that this was a testament that Marianne didn’t let her go, didn’t forget her at all. 

Héloïse felt her eyes water as she smiled. She felt a little silly for nearly crying while staring at her own face but, in a way, she felt she was staring at Marianne. This was the embodiment of Marianne’s feelings, talent, love and work and it was all there for Héloïse to make with it what she wanted. It was almost too much. That’s when Héloïse noticed the envelope resting on the bed in front of the portrait, also waiting for her. She picked it up, noticed an object clatter inside, but made the effort to take out the letter inside first and read it. It was brief.

“ _Héloïse,_

_You deserve the world. Milan was never your only chance at happiness. It should’ve never been presented to you as your only option because it never was. Neither I am, the only one, I mean. But I hope you’d consider me as an option. At least, I’d like to offer you one. Along with all my love, of course._

_¿Would you run away with me?_

_I love you,_

_Marianne._ ”

Héloïse found in the envelop there was another piece of paper. A one-way plane ticket for Paris, leaving that same day. The mysterious object turned out to be Marianne’s car keys. It was all there for her, waiting, asking the silent questions, _¿Do you love me too? ¿Do you still do? ¿Would you, Héloïse? ¿Do you still want me? ¿What do you want, Héloïse?_

It was the first time Héloïse actually drove through those roads on her own, and she was going fast. Whatever safety concerns she might have had were easily blown away by the wind blowing in her face. She had all the windows of Marianne’s car down, and as hard as she tried, she couldn’t hold back the smile that took over her face. So many times, even when she was a kid she’d pictured herself in that situation, driving alone, the wind blowing her hair, free and independent. Sure, in her fantasies she was usually moving away from home, not towards it. But she’d always be thankful for Marianne for giving this one gift. It was a dream come true.

Héloïse could easily picture the scene waiting for her at home. Her mother simultaneously ignoring her and making sure she was doing everything she was supposed to do. _How did I let her control me all this time_ , Héloïse asked herself. All throughout the night, the photographer would stand by her side. Enough time had passed since her sister’s death so that Héloïse felt confident in her guess that the guy would begin his public “romantic” advances toward her. _He can, and should, die alone, for all I care_ , Héloïse thought. A fancy dinner surely would take place. There would be at least a dozen guests, none of Héloïse’s choices of course. Perhaps one guest though…

Carefully, Héloïse moved the car to the side of the road and parked. She was having the time of her life but she didn’t feel she could actually risk using her phone while driving. She made the call and barely had to wait a second for Sophie to pick up.

“Héloïse! Hi! Everyone’s waiting for you here. Are you alright?” Sophie asked. She sounded content enough, and like she’d been eating something as she talked, and finally, sincere concern at the last question. After all, Sophie had been not only a witness of some of the best moments Héloïse had shared with Marianne, but she’d also been pretty much the only friend Héloïse had confided into when her heartache had been too much to bear alone.

Héloïse smiled at the image of her younger cousin and her only reply was, “You’re the _only one_ I’m going to miss.”

Then, Héloïse ended the phone call, started the car again, and turned around. She took the next turn in the road, the one that would take her to the airport

The first thing Héloïse thought when she stepped into the airport was that she must have been crazy. She’d barely changed into regular clothes after her graduation, a dark green sweater and jeans. She was lucky that since she had travelled quite often after moving to Milan she’d developed the habit of keeping all her traveling essentials on her backpack that she carried with her at all times. But… what exactly was she doing? She’d just about abandoned Marianne’s car in the parking lot. She didn’t say goodbye to anybody, barely gave Sophie an explanation. She looked at the plane ticket in her hand and noticed her hand was trembling. After taking a deep breath and checking the details on her ticket, she started walking.

It was the strangest thing, walking through an airport without any luggage but her small backpack. Héloïse tried not to meet anybody’s eyes, she was scared someone somehow would try to stop her. But when she glanced at people she couldn’t help but wonder, where are they going? Are they traveling with someone they love? Or traveling to them? Going home? Was there anybody else there running away? Anybody else wondering if they were about to ruin their lives, their promising future, the guaranteed privileges they had, the last family they had, everything they used to know…

In an instant, all questions were answered. There was, in fact, someone else in that same airport who was running away. With a first glance at her, one could notice her fear. She was risking it all too, giving up a life of plans and safety and all she’d taken for granted before.

What mattered though, was that they were traveling together. What matter was that among the millions of people on Earth they’d found each other, fallen in love and basked in the knowledge that they were loved in return. What mattered was that in a short amount of time they’d given each other the gift of such a passionate and genuine love that it transformed their hearts and just a memory would have been enough to make them smile and feel alive for the rest of their lives, but they could have more. That’s what mattered. That Marianne and Héloïse had found each other at the right time and place, that despite the unavoidable obstacles of life they were still there, once again in the same place, with the opportunity to make a choice, with the privilege to offer each other a chance. At last, what matter was that, because they could, and because there was nothing they wanted in the world more than each other, Héloïse and Marianne were there choosing each other.

This time, Héloïse first saw the back of Marianne’s head. This time, she was absolutely certain it was her. The dark hair, the way it curls at the nape of her neck. The familiar red shirt she’d stolen more than once, the black pants and the foot nervously tapping the floor. Beside her there was a small bag, not much than what Héloïse carried with her. The certainty that Marianne was there, waiting for her, about to run away with her, it made Héloïse’s heart stop, a small gasp escape her, and she stopped in her tracks, staring. She was a little breathless, and when Marianne finally turned around, she smiled.

It was instantaneous, the way Marianne’s worried frown disappeared the second her eyes found Héloïse. A weight she’d been carrying since she first walked away from Héloïse just vanished. In her favorite pair of green eyes Marianne found the realization that it was all worth it, that she’d do it all again, and she knew at once that this would work out, and that she’d do anything in the world for the opportunity to glance into Héloïse’s eyes everyday for the rest of her life.

They started walking toward each other at the same time, and they met each other in the middle. Their bodies crashed together and their arms wrapped around one another with no intention of letting go any time soon. They were all sighs and nervous, overjoyed laughs and unstoppable tears escaping their eyes. Marianne’s hand turned into fists that held tightly to Héloïse’s sweater, scared to let go, scared to be dreaming. Héloïse’s hands were restless, going up and down Marianne's back, one hand moving to grab her hair bring her impossibly close. They held each other tightly until their singular magnetic pull allowed for them to pull away just enough to take a good look at the faces they loved so much, and then their lips finally met again. It was like their lips had a mind of their own, saying in that kiss everything they wouldn’t dare say out loud. There was he angry memory of hearts broken, the sorrowful ghost of loneliness and wasted time, and the passionate taste of bottled-up desire and promises of a sweeter future, all interrupted by the big smiles of sincere joy at their reunion that they couldn’t hold back anymore.

They didn’t kiss again right away, cursing the airport for being the least private of places to be reunited, but they didn’t manage to step away from each other just yet. With their arms still around each other and their foreheads just touching, they looked deeply into each other’s eyes.

“You’re here,” Marianne said in a whisper, as if she still couldn't believe it, “you chose me.”

Héloïse didn’t have the patience to try and put into words how Marianne chose her first. The way this all happened for the way Marianne saw her since the very first day, unlike anybody else. The way all Héloïse had been waiting for was a chance to resist her previous life, an different opportunity, just waiting for Marianne to make the offer so they could chose each other, because they could, because they wanted to, because they deserved the opportunity to be happy, and happy together.

All Héloïse could say at the moment was a last reassurance, a promise, “I always will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's it ladies!
> 
> i Am crying!
> 
> yes, i refused to give the creepy photographer a name. 
> 
> Did you like it? Did you hate it? Please tell me everything in the comments. It was a really really wonderful experience to write this fic. Thank you sooooo much to everyone who read it, everyone who left comments, i love you all.
> 
> Alsoooo as previously promised, i swear there will be a really nice epilogue. i already have so many ideas. maybe Someone will cry at a theater? maybe they get a really nice place in paris? maybe Marianne will cut her hair again? would you guys like to read a romantic vacation to britanny maybe? what about a proposal? marriage? children? none of those? i'm all ears! feel free to drop all fluffy requests on the comments, on my tumblr, or @ me on the discord
> 
> I'm on tumblr @afterlaughy
> 
> Thanks again everyone!!


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